Pure Violet Is Killing Me
by AlbinoOkami
Summary: Ivan is dying. His people are being killed off by his government one by one in order to create a 'Pure Violet Russian' nation. With no one able to help him, America must infiltrate Russia's government alone and stop him. But, as Alfred infiltrates the Russian government he discovers that Ivan -Russia's human half- is…
1. World Meeting

*_**PLEASE NOTE!**_* This is entirely **FICTION**. I know nothing about Russia or their government. So please don't think that this is real in any way shape or form. This is in no way meant to be racist nor am I accusing the Russian government of _anything_. This has nothing to do with the current Russian government, or any other government for that matter. This is in no way a political statement. Also I couldn't care less if your communist or capitalist or whatever the fuck. So take this as it is: a FANFICTION, nothing more. Also I am deeply sorry if I offended anyone, that's the last thing I want to do. And _NO_ the Russian government is not killing off its own people or anything like that, jeez!

And also a quick message to Russia: Please don't kill me in my sleep.

Also I do not own Hetalia nor do I profit from this. Yada, yada.

Pure Violet Is Killing Me

Chapter 1 The 'Pure Violet Russian'

…

**2087**

"Communist bastard!"

"Stupid American!"

"Russian pig!"

"American dog!"

"Would you two shut up?!" England finally yelled, sick of the umpteenth time America and Russia interrupted the meeting, "America could you _please_ not get into a fight with Russia every time you see him?"

America's head snapped over to England's gaze and his once warm, soft, sky blue eyes were icy cold as they narrowed, "I'm not the one killing my people!"

Russia's eyes flared in anger. Gritting his teeth he growled, "That doesn't concern you America."

America's focus came back to the Russian's fiery glare, "I'm the hero, you bastard. Heroes save people!" He shouted, his voice consuming the entire room.

"Keep your idiotic 'hero' opinions to yourself! My country is my country and your country is yours. You may do what you want with it, but don't meddle in other nations' business!" Russia retorted angrily, his violet eyes flaring like a forest fire.

"Your people can't even speak their minds because your sick selfishness!" America yelled standing up, "All your government wants is money and power. Your people are suffering! You self-centered, compassion deprived, power obsessed, communist, bastard!"

"My people are perfectly happy," Russia said steadily, leaning over the conference table closer to the pompous American challenging him, his fingers drumming subtlety across the conference table.

"Happy? How would you know? You'll kill anyone who disagrees with your corrupt government and your inhuman laws!"

Russia's body stiffened, "Stay out of my business America. I can take care of my own people," he snarled through gritted teeth.

America glared at him angrily, "Take care of your people?! Is the '_**Pure Violet Russian**_' plan what you call taking care of your people?!"

For a split second Russia's eyes widened in fear. But then his hands became fists. His body shook in anger. His face darkened, his eyes narrowed, and he glared at America, daring him to speak.

"My intelligence tells me that your government is _murdering_ people that aren't to your standards! You're killing people you deem unworthy to create a 'Pure Violet Russian' country!" America yelled throwing his fists onto the table in front of him, "Your people have to send in a yearly report of all their '_Pure Violet Russian Duties_', those who pass receive a violet tag from the government. For the fortunate people who do pass, they get the privilege of _living_! And those who don't are murdered by your government!"

America looked to the other nations in disgust, "That's why they wear those purple tags. It's no fashion trend. It's so that their hit-men know who not to _kill_!" America turned back to Russia, "You're breeding your own people through the process of selective elimination! You're killing innocent people!"

As the other nations watched America with concerned looks, they did not notice Russia violet eyes widen in shock and fear.

"Is this true Russia?" England asked bored, sighing and leaning back in his chair, fiddling with a pen. He was tired of being the mediator of America and Russia's ridiculous fights. Last week America accused Russia of broad casting hypnosis messages through television. The week before that he said that Russia was infusing vodka into the water system... well that one was somewhat believable.

Russia's face darkened. He looked down at the conference table where his clenched fists lay. Even with his long white coat on, which Russia always wore, he could see his own scars branching across his wrists and slightly down his hand. Scars, which were reminders of the countless wars and hate, were spread across his entire body.

Russia raised his head from the table, "No, absolutely not! This is a ridiculous accusation and I'm offended that any of you would believe it," he said coldly, looking straight into England's emerald eyes.

America frowned angrily, glared at Russia, and said sternly, "This means war." And with that America pushed his chair back, and walked out of the conference room.

England stared at America as he stormed out of the conference room, shocked and aggravated by his declaration of war and this ridiculous idea of Russia killing off his own people. Every now and then America would conjure up things from out of nowhere and blow rumors out of proportion. This was most likely that, America hearing some stupid rumor and jumping to conclusions.

He looked over to Russia's fuming figure and said, "Please don't take that _seriously_. He says that every time I tell him that Doctor Who is better than My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic."

Russia turned his head to England's, his mouth a straight line, his eyes steady and dark, and starred at England for a few glaring moments. Soon his usual childlike smile returned to his face, his eyes wide and innocent, but his stare was still cold and distant.

"Yes, you are right _Angliya_. _Amerika_ gets worked up over things he doesn't know of or understand," he said calmly, "I will be going now." He pushed his chair back neatly, adjusted his scarf, and briskly walked out the door.

Once Russia exited the building and firmly away from anyone's sight his child like composure crumbled. His teeth clenched shut as his fist pounded into a nearby wall out of pure anger. Russia's lip twitched as he snarled in hate, rage, and distress.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" He thought with every pound of his fist.

"Idiot, how could you have been so careless? What are you going to do now?!" Russia asked himself as he walked to his car, "America _cannot_ interfere with this! How did he get that information? I have been working meticulously on this for years! The last thing my country needs is a stupid pompous idiotic nation playing 'hero' and sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. This is _my_ country, _my_ people, damn it! He has no idea of what and me my government are doing! I _am_ taking care of my people!"

Russia's blood started to boil and his heart began to beat furiously. He was clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles became white as his face was becoming red with anger.

He took a deep breath, "Okay, calm down. We have to settle this quietly. I have to brush it off so no one will notice. But this is a delicate matter. I have to be careful."

Russia pulled into his hotel parking lot and repaired his broken composer.

As he walked through the lobby he spotted the Baltic States, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania.

His heavy winter boots thudded against the carpeted floor. The Baltics heard the familiar sound; their muscles tensed, their senses alert.

As Russia passed them he said quietly, "Come," and he walked off toward the stair way.

He never liked using elevators. For one, he thought they gave you a false sense of security. You thought you were alone, but really you are being watched – security cameras - and second now-a-days no one _ever_ took the stairs and because of that no one bothered to put up security cameras. And thus he was guaranteed to be alone and away from prying eyes.

The Baltics looked at each other wearily, unspoken messages of fear were sent to one another. And after a few moments, carefully, the Baltic States followed. Whenever Russia ordered them to follow _quietly_, something was terribly wrong.

Once they were all safely in the stairway, walking up the stairs Russia said, "Did you three see that ice cream shop down town? The ice cream is deliciously cold, like the home land."

_Were you three at the G8 meeting? Information has been leaked._

Estonia adjusted his glasses and replied quietly, "Yes, the chocolate ice cream was outstanding. I was unable to finish it though."

_Yes, we saw everything. America is on to you. I followed him out when he left so I don't know what happened after that._

"I don't favor chocolate ice cream, but what saves it, I think, is when it's soft severed. Then the taste is magical. It eliminates all those chunks of ice. Don't you agree Lithuania, Latvia?"

_He knows too much. This could compromise everything. For now no one believes him because of England. He passed it off as gossip. I believe we should do the same._

"I always thought that nuts tasted well with chocolate ice cream?" Lithuania said without thinking.

_Don't you think we should bomb America to stop him from talking?_

Russia chuckled lightly. His laugh was cold and frightening.

His laugh was one of a spoiled prince looking down on his subjects, laughing at how pathetic and worthless they were as they groveled in filth, "Oh Lithuania, you should never put nuts on soft served chocolate ice cream. It should be sprinkled.*"

_Idiot, if I silenced him then everyone would know there was something I was hiding. This has to slowly evaporate away, not disappear in an instant._

By this time they had ascended the stairs and entered Russia's hotel room. Even though the high class hotel room was sound proofed they still spoke in code.

"Oh, I guess your right Ivan. Sprinkles would be best."

_**-BAM!-**_

Without warning Lithuania found himself slammed against the wall, being held above ground by the scruff of his neck. Russia held him there with one, large, brutal hand. His face was dark and deadly.

Russia's grip was so tight Lithuania coughed and struggled to get any air.

As Russia nearly chocked him holding him up by his neck, he leaned his head down, right next to his right ear. Lithuania's eyes widened when he felt Russia hot breath on his ear. He smelled the familiar sent of rage and vodka. They grew even wider when Russia bit down on the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

Russia's voice was deep with his heavy, husky, Russian accent as he whispered/growled slowly, "_You will never call me by that name when discussing ice cream. If you do so again, than I will have no other choice but to invade your country once more_," he said then slowly licking the curves Lithuania's ear, "Understand?"

As he pulled back and dropped Lithuania on the floor his sweet smile was back on his face, "It has been a long day. We should all get some rest."

The other Baltics looked at him wide eyed. Lithuania gasped for air, coughing and holding his bruised and pained neck. The atmosphere was heavy and terrifying. They didn't move from the places they stood, just stared in fear.

Russia's innocent smile turned to a dark frown. He scowled and commanded, "Leave."

Estonia and Latvia helped Lithuania up off the floor and they all left in a hurry.

After the door had closed and the sounds of the other nations disappeared, Russia let out a heavy sigh.

He walked over the window of the extravagant hotel room. The sky was dark and black.

The Moon did not show her soft, pale face. The only light that emitted from the sky was of the small – ever so small - lights of shy stars, shining dimly through the sheet of darkness.

Staring out into the open sky Russia thought to himself, "Even now, as I sit here watching the night go by, more and more _impure_ blood is being spilt and Russia is becoming _purely violet_ once again."

…

Okay! So that's the first chapter! First chapters are always the hardest to write. So it'll get better, _**I promise**_! Sorry if the last bit felt a little rushed. But I'm having fun writing this and I really hope you enjoyed it too! Did you like the Doctor Who and MLP reference? And sorry if it felt a bit over worded, or corny, or anything that was bad in anyway shape or form!

Why the 'Pure _Violet_ Russian' plan? Well because Russia's eyes are violet of course!

_**PLEASE! **_ _Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you want more of, less of, anything! I love and cherish each review!_ _**Thank you!**_

Oh, and that's right Russia talks about the execution of his own people in **ICE CREAM CODE!** Fear the cream!

* I know that some people call them jimmies, but I call them sprinkles so yeah, there yah go! :P

Translations:

Amerika = America

Algnliya = England


	2. America and The President

Hetalia isn't mine, unfortunately. This has nothing to do with the current Russian government, or any other government for that matter. This is in no way a political statement. I couldn't care less if you're capitalist or socialist or whatever. You guys know the drill. I am deeply sorry if I offended anyone. That is the last thing I want to do.

I would like to say thank you for everyone for their input on the last two updates. You guys are the best. I hope you enjoy. Sorry if this chapter is kind of short… Damn you writers' block!

Enjoy!

_..._

_Pure Violet Is Killing Me _

_Chapter 2: America and The President_

"This means war." America forcefully pushed back his chair with a loud screech and stormed out of the conference room, enraged that no one believed him. As he slammed the door shut he heard England telling Russia to not believe him and that he shouldn't take him _seriously_, playing him off as if he was a child making up stories.

"'_Don't take him seriously_', I'll show you damn seriously!" America thought to himself behind the large double-doors, "Fine England, if you don't want to believe me than _fine_. I will save these people myself."

He stormed out of the building, marched over to his car, and drove off in angry determination. Conveniently the G8 meeting was taking place in D.C, so it was only a short drive to the White House where his current president lived, Carissa Theresa, the third female president and first to be openly gay. She was one of the few great presidents and had a tendency to say 'ludicrous' a lot. America was at a state of peace and prosperity ever since she came into office. The economy was the most stable and prosperous it has ever been. She was the head of major milestones in the U.S's history. The U.S of A was in top condition. She was trustworthy and loved by everyone. And she didn't believe America at all.

"What do you mean 'ludicrous'?" America asked waving his arms around the oval office to emphasize his point.

"By ludicrous, I mean _ludicrous_," President Carissa said coming around from her desk and leaning on it, a blatant sign that she wasn't taking this seriously in the slightest, "You're telling me that the Russian government is somehow secretly killing off their own people because there are trying to breed them into 'Pure Violet Russians' via selective elimination?"

"Yes!"

"And every Russian citizen is given 'Pure Violet Russian Duties' that they have to preform and if they don't they will be set to be killed by the government's hit-men?"

"Yes!"

"And the reason for the resent 'purple bracelet' fashion trend in Russia is actually a tag that the government sends out to the people who passed this test so that their hit-men will know who _not _to kill?"

"Yes!"

"And they're all doing this because they want to breed the Russian people into 'Pure Violet Russians' thusly become the greatest breed of people in the world?"

"Yes!"

"America that's absolutely –"

"Don't say ludicrous!" America interrupted.

"Actually, I was going to say _stupid_."

America gapped at her, his mouth wide open in disbelief.

"How could you say that?" America asked, extremely insulted.

"Because it is." She replied easily.

"People are being murdered!"

Carissa sighed, "America, do you have any actual, legitimate, or solid evidence indicating that this 'Pure Violet Russian' plan is taking place?"

"Of course I do! There has been a huge decrease in the Russian population ever since this so called 'fad' has taken place! And I have the census to prove it!" America argued vehemently.

"But America, what facts are there that links those two thing together? And how does a decrease in population equal the government killing off its own people to 'breed' them?"

"Madam President I know it's a little strange but I'm telling you the Russian government is doing this!" America insisted, practically pleading to his President to believe him, "Can you tell me that this strange weather phenomenon that's been going on for three years isn't the least bit suspicious to you? Barley anyone can get in or out of Russia!"

"America, I have always been tolerant of your vivid imagination and your grudge against Russia, but this is absolutely ludicrous!"

"But-"

"America, stop wasting my time and forget this ludicrous fairytale!"

"Madam President, this is no fairytale! Russia is killing innocent peop-"

President Carissa glared at America, that 'Shut up and get out of my office, I'm your boss' look written all over her petit, freckled, and angry face.

"Yes ma'am." America growled, forcing the words past his lips and admitting defeat. He walked out of the oval office and shutting the door behind him quietly.

As soon as the door had closed and the sound proof room was sealed, America lost his composure.

"I can't believe her!" America thought angrily as he stormed through the White House. "I know it sounds insane, but it's the truth! She wouldn't even let me show her the evidence! She's just like England, just like everyone else. I'm a kid, I shouldn't be taken seriously, I'm over reacting, or I'm making things up to be a 'hero'. Well, they're wrong. _People are dying_!"

He swept his hands through his dusty blond hair, distressed and anxious. He didn't have his people behind him. He didn't have his President's trust. And he didn't have his army to declare war. People were dying and he was all alone.

"I will stop Russia. No matter what it takes!"

America marched fiercely through the decorated halls of the White House, ignoring the confused looks he got from the Secret Service agents strategically placed throughout the White House. He was going to get this done, even if he had to do it by himself.

"Up the third hall, two lefts, through the old door Lincoln always walked into, one right, up the stairs to the fourth floor, past the guards, last room on the left, in the closet, down the secret stairway, and… I'm here." America thought to himself after taking complex twists and turns through the hall ways and secret passages he had memorized long ago America to end up in his personal secret room.

And by 'secret' I mean his old club house he built under the White House as a kid that no one knew about.

Although when he first started out his little club house was no more than a small room made out of wood underground. But over the years he was able to convert it into a high tech secret facility.

He punched in the secret code into the padlock that lay to right of the two huge steel doors: IActuallyAmVegetarianAndAllT heBurgersIEatAreVeggieBurger sAndTheBestColorInTheWorldIs SkyBlueBecauseThatIsMyEyeCol orIAmAPrettyPrincessGoMeIMad eTheInternetAndTheInternetIs Awesome, and the two six inch steel doors opened and America walked inside.

Not only was the large steel room chrome plated, creating a shiny and futuristic atmosphere, it was fully equipped with everything you could possibly need, especially for secret missions. Cloaking devices, tracking devises, a hearing aid that allowed you to hone-in to specific sounds, glasses that enabled you to see through bricks, cement, steel, iron, and just about anything else, along with the many other gadgets decorated the walls.

And best of all, these were all invented by Alfred himself, for himself. He didn't let his army have these weapons, for he feared they would sure them for the wrong reasons. So they were for personal use only.

"Hey, Tony!" America called for his alien friend.

"Fucking limey!" Tony yelled from the very back of the room, which was a long ways away.

"Tony, I need my spying equipment!"

"Bitches?"

"Because Tony, people and dying. And it's that fucking bastard Russia. He's killing people, his own people."

"Fucking bitches?"

"Why would he do that? Because, he's trying to _breed_ his people into 'Pure Violet Russians' by killing off those who he deems 'unworthy'. It's sick."

"Shitting bitches?"

"I know because of the facts. Russia has been doing this for three years, under everyone's noses. He thought no one would notice, but I did." America narrowed his eyes and walked over to a white table at the left side of the room covered in papers.

"Three years ago a new 'fashion trend' started in Russia, violet bracelets, almost everyone wore them. In that same year the population dropped 1/5th percent. But it wasn't reported in that year's census. Media such as the internet and news broadcasting stations, never reported on this. And the only news coming out from Russia, about Russia, was good. They're trying to make their country look perfect."

America walked over to Tony and said, "And the only negative news was something environmental - something their government and the people are not in control of. But why would they do that? To not look suspicious. But I caught on, I figured it out."

America sorted through several papers and showed them to Tony.

"Look at this," America showed Tony a pile of documents, "This is a list of people who have passed away do to unknown causes. They were all in near perfect health and yet they suddenly died. When I saw this I knew something was wrong, so I found out what they had in common. After two weeks of research I realized that someone in their family posted _something_ on the internet that was immediately taken down, as in within milliseconds. I didn't know what it was, but I do know it was important. There was another similarity: they didn't wear the bracelet. They weren't part of the 'fashion trend'." He glanced up from his papers and looked intensely at the alien seated on the opposite side of the table.

"They were set to be killed."

"Fucking shit limey! Bitches… Fuck!"

"Yeah, that's right. The people who Russia thinks are unworthy to be called a 'Pure Violet Russian' are killed. He's breeding a 'perfect' nation. And to think he fought alongside me during WW2."

"Bloody shits," Tony said, "That's terrible."

"I know, and I'm going to put a stop to it. If my President doesn't believe me, fine. If I don't have my army, fine. If I don't have my people to back me, fine. If the U.S.A can't do it, fine. If America can't, _**I**__ will_. I'm taking this into my own hands. Alfred F. Jones will save these people. Even if I have to do it by myself."

Discarding the papers America, no, _Alfred_ ran over to his closet. Slamming the two-door chrome plated closet open Alfred shifted through the various garments and gear until he came upon his treasure, his invisibility suit. It took him 108 years of hard work to perfect it. And it does just what you think it does. It's a full body suit that makes you completely invisible to the human eye and to any and all human technology, which means any type of camera, heat sensors, laser detectors, even the newly developed DNA detectors. The highest level of technology couldn't pick him up. (Although Tony did say he looked like an idiot for wearing outdated fashion from Zuptar.)

Grabbing it he took off to the other side of the room where his many devises hung on the wall. 'Granny Smith's Hearing Aid' – a hearing aid that allowed you to hone in on a specific place and hear what's going on from great distances – 'I Choose You Ink' – an ink that can only be seen by the person's DNA you put in it – the 'Camo-Tent' – made from the same material as the invisibility suit, perfect for avoiding bears while camping – and 'Ol Shotgun McGee' - it's a shotgun.

Dressed in his invisibility suit unable to be seen by any human eye, he took his gear and placed them carefully in his camo pack, of course made in the same material as the invisibility suit.

"Tony," he said solemnly to his longtime friend, "I won't be back for a while, not until I put a stop to this. So hold down the fort for me, okay?"

"I will." Tony replied back.

"Oh, and," Alfred said standing in the door frame looking over his shoulder, "If I die because of this, tell them: I told you so."

_..._

Okay, done! I hope I explained everything correctly and you enjoyed it! I did my best. Maybe in a few years when I'm a better writer I'll come back and fix it…

And just how the hell are there **ultra-super-impossiblely-stupid-spying-devises** that are probably impossible to make? Because it's the _future_! Of like 50 years… And I said so! I'm the author so I can do whatever I want! I know it all sounds really stupid but hey, I could make them all into purple fuckin' polka-dotted dragons next episode if I so desired, so _deal with it_! And yes, America is a vegetarian, all of those cheese burgers you see him eating are actually veggie burgers. Why? Because I'm vegetarian and I don't like promoting meat. I think the treatment of animals in meat factories is disgusting and cruel, and I think everyone should be vegetarian. Also if you don't want to become a vegetarian, please buy from your local farm where they treat their animals humanly. Thank you. :)

And now I'd like to thank my lovely reviewers! OO, TiggerMusica, Onceago, Guest (2), Soriyama, KittyWithCoffee, LasangaLover, Dackerie, Mari, Fynniona, and toolazytologin! Thank you for your support; you don't know how much it means to me!

And a **BIG** thank you to 'Guest'! My first hater! ":story's kinda dumb. sorry. maybe it's the way it's written" I'm officially a writer now! Although I don't know why I didn't get any hate on Forbidden Love. That _sucked_, and I know it. Maybe one day I'll go back and re-write it.

Chapter 3 is being uncooperative, so it might be a little while 'till I'm done. Fuckin' writers' block.


	3. Anya

Holy mother of God it was so hard to write evil. Okay so I'm not used to writing a chapter like this so I'm sorry if it's bad. It didn't really turn out the way I thought it was so yeah… I'm so sorry if you're not pleased. I promise the story gets better!

Anyhow, I don't own Hetalia, which is too bad because if I did, I would _**so**_ make all the pairings cannon… But no, the world is cruel and doesn't let me. I also don't profit from this in any way shape or form. (Which is also unfortunate…) Now that we're done with the disclaimers let's get on with the show! Happy reading!

Pure Violet Is Killing Me

Chapter 3

_Anya_

…

He was malicious. He was cruel. He was unforgiving. He was greedy. He was selfish. He was corrupted. He was power obsessed. He was evil… He was the leader of Russia.

"How was the meeting?" asked the Russian 'President' said, if you could even call him that. He went by many names, 'His Majesty', 'The King', 'His Perfection', 'The Purity', the 'Great One', his 'Highness', and various others.

"Fine." Russia answered curtly, seating himself down on the large plush couch in the middle of the extensively decorated official office.

'His Lordship' took a pause. He looked at his nails and flicked at them bored, then leaning over the shining golden office desk with his head in his hand, "Has any information been leaked?" He asked flippantly.

Russia blinked once slowly. _'My intelligence tells me that your government is murdering people that aren't to your standards!_ _You're killing people you deem unworthy to create a 'Pure Violet Russian' country!_' The memory was still fresh in his mind. He could still see America's eyes flaring in righteous anger.

His face was expressionless, "No." He said calmly, "No one is aware of the purification of my country."

"Good." The 'King' said, leaning back in his chair, "Now, we must discuss the matter of the _filth_." He said looking disgusted, as if he was talking about a rat wallowing in its own filth.

Russia grinned. "Of course."

"From the information I've been given, there are too many children without parents and now the orphanages are becoming full. There are impures' offspring roaming around my country, dirtying the pure image of my beautiful Pure Violet nation! These orphans are becoming a nuisance-"

"Your 'Majesty'," Russia interrupted, "if I may be so bold, I believe if these…" He paused for a moment, thinking about how they should word his plan, "children are _unable_ to complete their 'Pure Violet Russian Duties', along with their individual taxes, than they should be swiftly disposed of."

"Excellent." The 'President' said smiling, "Although it is going to be expensive adding another breed to dispose of. How should we go about collecting the money? Taxes? From the family? What do you say?"

Russia glanced to the ceiling then to the floor in thought, "I say," He said after a few moments, "If a child's impure parent is disposed of and is unable to take care of themselves then they will be taken to an orphanage. And we'll and an orphanage tax, for when they live there. If they are not adopted by a pair of Pure Violet Russian parents within a year they will be eliminated immediately."

"That's all well and good Russia, but it would be _so_ much easier if we just _killed_ them and not go through all that _waiting_," The 'Great One' said, whining. He wanted to take the easy route, killing. Not all that complicated stuff like taking care of his citizens.

"Of course sir, but…"

"But?" 'His Purity' asked raising his eyebrow is suspicion.

"But to keep the _purity_ of our country we must keep all 'Pure Violet Russians' alive and well. So, any child that is able to take care of themselves and complete all their 'Pure Violet Russian' duties, of course along with their taxes, they should stay alive and be treated as any other adult. Thusly, if they fail their 'Pure Violet Russian Duties' then they will be executed, as any other adult would."

"Yes, that sounds perfect. Now, to the next topic at hand, bastard children."

Russia raised his eyebrow in question.

"It seems that women keep getting pregnant without being married to a man! Filthily whores."

"Are you suggesting that we should put them on the 'purification' list as well?"

"Of course."

"And the unborn child?"

"Oh, I haven't even thought about that…" He said quietly. The 'President' paused in thought, putting his chin to his hand, "We'll be killing two birds with one stone!" He said corybantic.

"Wonderful." Russia grinned and sat back on the couch.

The door to the office opened. A man dressed in a black suit with a purple tie entered. He had an envelope in his hand. The Czar glared at him in anger.

"Please forgive my intrusion Your Perfection, but the data you requested has arrived," He got down on his knees, bowed, and presented the envelope.

"Fine." The 'Great One' said plainly, and sounding quite bored, "Now get out of my sight." He snatched the papers from the man's hand. The man in the black suit still kneeled there bowing, showing his respect.

"Are you deaf? _Get the__** fuck **__out of my sight you disgusting peasant!_" He howled.

The man with the purple tie quickly stood up, bowed again and turned around to leave. But in his rush to make it out the door he tripped and fell to the ground.

His 'Excellency' growled, "You dare call yourself a Pure Violet Russian?!" He yelled. Glaring at the man marched over to him. "You can't even accomplish such simple tasks as walking?! I should have you killed!"

He raised his foot then slammed it down on the man's hand, taking pleasure when hearing the cracking of the fool's bones.

A muffled cry came from the man as his hand was crushed, "I am nothing, Your Perfection. I could never hope to be as holy as you! Please spare my life, for I have devoted it to you!"

The 'King' grinned, "Is that so?" he asked, "Then maybe you should show me your devotion by…" He looked to Russia with frenzied eyes and asked, "What do you think he should do?"

Russia grinned darkly, "Every Russian has devoted themselves to becoming 'pure'," he said walking over to the man still on the floor in pain, "I cannot have the 'impure' dirtying my country. And falling in such disgrace in front of His 'Majesty' is quite the crime." He bent to him, "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Marcus Bellowine." He said quietly, trying to keep the pain out of his voice as his hand was crushed.

"Well Marcus," Russia said, "I will spare your life but, you'll have to atone for your sin."

"Y-yes."

Russia looked to his 'King', "May I?" he asked.

"Of course," His 'Lordship' said removing his foot from Marcus' hand.

Russia took Marcus' crushed into his and said, "I think _one_ will suffice." He grabbed the Marcus' far right finger and broke it with a _snap_.

"GYAH!" Marcus screamed in pain. His face clenched as the pain traveled through his body.

Russia let the hand drop from his grip, "You may go now," He said curtly.

Marcus, shaking, bowed once again quickly and left.

The 'Grand One' grinned manically. "Beautifully done, Russia."

"Thank you, Your 'Purity'," He said with a slight bow of the head.

Russia looked at the clock above the 'King's' head, "My, my, it is getting late. I hate to leave you, 'Your Excellency', but I must be heading home to take care of the work of the 'purification' of my country."

The 'Pure One', smiled, "That's my Russia, strong, hardworking, obedient; you're becoming more and more pure with each passing day. Can you feel it Russia, your people becoming Pure Violet, your body becoming stronger with each rise and set of the Sun and Moon?" He said patting Russia on his back as he led him to the door.

"Yes," He said quietly. "I feel myself becoming more and more 'Pure Violet' each day," he chuckled lightly, "It seems even my blood is becoming 'Pure Violet'." And with that Russia left the room, his face blank and expressionless.

…

Russia exited the palace, out of the prestigious city of councilmen and the housing of the government men into the dark streets of poor and dying towns. Taking twists and turns going into more and more obscure sections in and out of Moscow.

"Where are you going?" Alfred thought as he followed Russia from the tops of buildings.

He had been following him all day, surveying, analyzing, recording, and all in secret. No one saw him jumps from the roof tops of buildings. No one suspected the rustling of trees he climbed. He truly was undetectable.

Russia had gone a full circle and was back at the boarders of the 'Government' section of town, where his house stood. As he walked down the snowy gray street on his way home, he spotted a small girl on the sidewalk that was on her knees, crying. She must have been there for hours because snow had accumulated over her sobbing figure.

He knelt down to the girl, "Why are you crying little one?" He asked stroking her hair gently and dusting off the snow on her back.

"M-my m-mommy and d-daddy died in the-the house fire!" She wept, "A-and I don't h-have enough money to send to H-his Perf-fection!" The little girl dressed in an old pink coat sniffled and shook in fear, "A-and now I'm going to-to…"

"Hang on little one," Russia said slipping one hand into his coat pocket, "Explain to me what happened."

The young girl of only 11 or 12 years of age rubbed her face and wiped away the never ending river of tears, "Mommy was making Okroshka* a-and her hand slipped on the pan. It got really hot and there was a lot of smoke. And daddy was in the living room organizing our Pure Violet Russian Duties. M-mommy told me to run so I did. And mommy and daddy never came out!" And with the memories of her mother and father dying cracked the already weak damn she desperately attempted to build to keep her emotions somewhat intact. And she wept even harder. "_The papers b-burned in the f-fire along with mommy and daddy and now I c-can't tell the King that my m-mommy and d-daddy were Pure Violet Russians!_"

"It's okay little one. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Anya."

"Well Anya I-" Russia stopped mid-sentence. Coming up the road were two Russian soldiers, soldiers ordered to kill any Russian citizen without the violet tag.

Russia's hand zoomed into his pocket grabbing something and handing it to the girl, "Here," he whispered, "Wear this, don't ask questions. I'm your father and we're out for a healthy walk."

As the soldiers came up the sidewalk they noticed Russia fiddling with the girl's 'Pure Violet Bracelet' wrist. One of the soldiers looked at them in suspicion. He looked to his left where his partner stood. They nodded to each other and walked up to Russia and the girl.

"Is there a problem?" The one on the left asked.

Russia stood up straight and looked and the soldiers, "A problem?" Russia asked standing in front of Anya and blocking the line of sight of the soldiers, "No sirs," he said, "My daughter and I are just out for a healthy stroll to admire the beauty of this glorious country we live in."

One of the soldiers raised his chin. He stepped aside from Russia's guarding firgure and looked at Anya, "Is there a problem with your bracelet?"

"A problem? …No." Anya said shaking her head.

His eyes narrowed, "Oh really?" He said, "Then what were you doing then?" He asked turning to Russia.

Russia grinned, "Oh yes, you see my daughter and I have been losing weight so as to represent the 'Pure Violet Russian' and my daughter here asked me if I could tighten her bracelet."

"I see," the soldier said, "Do you mind if I just check if it's _properly_ registered?"

"Of course." Russia stepped aside so the both soldiers could see Anya's arm.

He took Anya's arm in his hand and looked at the bracelet. Turning it inside out he found what looked to be a bar code. From one of his pouches he retrieved a strange looking scanner and pointed it at the bracelet.

"Well it seems everything is in order. May the purity of Russia run through you." The soldier recited. Russia nodded and they both left.

Once both the men were firmly out of sight and hearing range Anya turned to Russia and said, "Thank you sir. You saved my life but…" She looked to her feet and began to cry again, "But now they'll come after you for saving an impure one!"

"Hush little one," Russia said bending down and stroking Anya's hair gently, "There is no need to worry about me. I'll be just fine; trust me. Now," he said lifting the girl's hands away from her face, "Listen carefully."

Anya sniffed and grabbed the edge of her fluffy pink coat, "Okay."

"You can never tell anyone about this. You do know what will happen if you do, right?"

She sniffed and looked down, "Yes, I know."

"Good," he smiled sweetly, "Now here take this." Out of his left coat pocket Russia took out a stack of money, "This is 8,000,000 ruble*." He said placing the bills in Anya's hands.

Anya looked from her hands holding the huge amount of money to Russia's kind and tender smiling face, her own in complete shock.

"You are a very smart girl, yes?"

She nodded her head vigorously.

"Then you know that you have to be _very_ careful with it, right?"

Anya quickly said, "Yes sir!"

"And you know what taxes are, yes?"

"Yes I do! Mommy and daddy taught me!"

"Oh good," Russia said sweetly, "Now then make sure that you get a job when you're old enough, okay?"

"Yes sir! This money won't last forever, I know. You don't have to tell me!"

Russia chuckled lightly, "Good then, now run along."

"Thank you mister," Anya said hugging Russia tightly. She looked up to him with bright mauve eyes, her long white hair fluttering in the wind, "Thank you so much; you saved my life. I'll never forget you."

And with that she released Russia from her grip, smiled to him and ran off. Russia watched the girl run down the slightly less grey street with in incredible joy in her step. Just as he turned the other way and began to walk, Anya yelled from the other side of the street, "Hey mister! I never got to ask for your name!"

Hearing her sweet voice he turned around and shouted, "My name's Ivan!"

Anya smiled again and waved, "Thank you, Ivan!"

Ivan smiled and waved farewell to the young girl. Once Anya turned the corner Ivan turned around as well and sighed. Putting his hands in his pockets he made his way back to his house.

…

"I knew it!" Alfred thought to himself as he watched Russia and 'His Majesty' from a tree directly outside the large window of the Russian White House* facing both Russia and the 'King'. "That bastard… I was right!" His eyes narrowed in disgust.

"…_they must swiftly be disposed of."_

"How could you do this, Russia?"

"…_they must be eliminated immediately…" _

"Children, you're killing _children_!" Alfred gritted his teeth in attempt to distract himself from ripping off his invisibility suit, jumping through the window, and shooting both Russia and his sorry excuse for a leader.

"_But…"_

"But?"

"…_to keep the purity of our country we must keep all Pure Violet Russians alive… children… should be treated as any other adult."_

"Purity? Wow Russia, you're worse than I thought," Alfred thought to himself as he watched them converse, "treating children like they're adults, taxing them, shouldering that kind of responsibility on them…"

Suddenly the door the office opened, a man dressed in black walked in and gave the 'King' an envelope, bowing on his knees. On his way out he fell. And out of nowhere his hand was clamped down on by the 'King's' foot.

Alfred could hear the clear _snap_ of his hand and flinched at the sound. He watched the pleasure grow on the 'President's' face.

"He enjoys this?!"

The grinning psychopath turned his sights to Russia and asked how the man writhing in pain should 'prove his worth'.

"_I cannot have the 'impure' dirtying my country." _Russia said bending down to the man and said in his ear,_ "And falling in such disgrace in front of His 'Majesty' is quite the crime. Tell me, what is your name?"_

"_Marcus Bellowine."_ He said quietly.

"…_you'll have to atone for your sin."_ Russia said menacingly.

"_I think one will suffice."_ Alfred eyes widend as he watched Russia grab Marcus' right pinkie finger and broke it like a twig.

"Oh my God!" He thought as he watched Marcus scream in pain.

"_Now I must be going." _Russia said then leaving the room, closing the door behind him quietly.

"Oh, no you don't" Alfred thought. Grabbing his gear he followed Russia as he walked through the city of Moscow.

When Russia came to an obscure part of the 'city' - if you could call it that, the entire place, except for the government district, was gray and felt like it was dying - he came across a little girl. She was crying.

To Alfred's surprise Russia stopped and talked to the girl.

"What are you doing?" Alfred thought as he placed himself down on a tree branch.

"_Why are you crying little one?"_

"…_M-mommy and d-daddy died in the house fire!..." _

"Oh that poor girl…"

"…_A-and I don't h-have enough money to send to H-his Perf-fection!" _

"Wait didn't Russia say '…_if they fail their 'Pure Violet Russian Duties' then they will be executed, as any other adult would'?_" Russia's hand went to his pocket and he gripped something tightly.

"Is he going to...!"

"_Explain to me what happened."_ The little girl, through broken sobs, explained that her parents burned to death in a house fire along with their 'Pure Violet Russian Duties'. And so she was set to be killed.

"_It's okay little one. Tell me, what is your name?"_

"_Anya."_

"_Well Anya-"_ Suddenly Russia stopped when he saw something up the road. Alfred followed Russia's line of sight. Up the road same two soldiers, not so timidly displaying their large guns that hung on their shoulders.

Russia whispered something to the girl and quickly got to work fixing with her wrist.

"What is he doing?" Alfred thought to himself as the scene played out in front of him. Although he was dying to jump in and save the girl he knew it was too important to risk getting caught, especially with Russia and two upcoming soldiers there. "I'm sorry sweetie. I'll have to save you later…"

The soldiers came up to them, suspicious looks on their faces. They noticed Russia doing something to the girl's 'bracelet wrist'. Alfred put two and two together and realized that the soldiers assumed that they must have been trying to cover up that the girl had no bracelet.

The man standing on the left asked if there was a 'problem'. To Alfred's surprise Russia stood up, straight and tall, his chest puffed out with a serious look on his face and stepped in front of Anya, protecting her.

"_A problem?... No sirs."_

"He lied!" Al exclaimed in his mind. "What? Why!"

One of the soldiers raised his chin and stepped aside to look at Anya, _"Is there a problem with your bracelet?"_

Anya looked to Russia. He smiled to her kindly, "Kindly?! Why, or how is Russia looking kind?! Shouldn't he be screaming that '_This girl is impure! Kill her!_' or something like that?" Alfred questioned, completely flabbergasted.

"_A problem? No…"_ Anya said bravely.

One of the men looked to Russia suspiciously, _"Then what were you doing just then?"_

"…_my daughter here asked me if I could tighten her bracelet." _Russia said again lying to save the girl.

"_Do you mind if I just check if it's _properly_ registered?"_

"_Of course." _Russia stepped aside. He looked to Anya and smiled reassuringly.

The man took out some kind of devise that looked like one of those hand held cashier thingy-ies, did something with the girl's bracelet and nodded his head.

"_Well it seems everything is in order. May the purity of Russia run through you." _And with that the pair of army dudes left.

When the army guys were out of Alfred's sight he directed his attention back to Russia and the little girl, still thoroughly confused and captivated at the same time.

"_Thank you sir. You saved my life but…"_ Any looked to the ground and stared to cry, _"But now they'll come after you for saving an 'impure' one!"_

"Yeah, why did you so that?" Alfred also asked, "Just a second ago you were all about killing the 'impure'. Then you see a girl crying on the side of the road and you save her from your military, which you implemented to kill people without bracelets like her? What the hell is going on?"

"_Hush little one," _Russia soothed the girl by patting her hair,_ "There is no need to worry about me. I'll be just fine; trust me. Now, listen carefully,"_ he said then taking the girl into his arms.

Russia hugged Anya tightly. After a while of letting the girl cry into his shoulder he pulled back and said to her, _"You can never tell anyone about this. You do know what will happen if you do, right?"_

She sniffed,_ "Yes, I know."_

"_Good," _Alfred could just see Russia's face turning into a sweet and almost happy smile as he said,_ "Now here take this." _Russia took out a stack of papers from his pocket and handed to Anya,_ "This is 8,000,000 ruble*." _

"**What**!" Alfred almost screamed, clinging to the tree branch he sat on as he watched Russia give the girl 8,000,000 ruble*.

Alfred watched the girl's face quickly turned into utter shock and astonishment, along with his.

"_You are a very smart girl, yes?"_ Russia asked her.

Anya's head bobbed up and down.

"_Then you know that you have to be very careful with it, right?"_

"_Yes sir!" _she basically shouted with joy.

"_And you know what taxes are, yes?"_

She nodded again, _"Yes I do! Mommy and daddy taught me!"_ She said with a cute face of knowledge.

"_Oh good. Now then make sure that you get a job when you're old enough, okay?"_ Russia asked making sure the girl was going to be safe.

"_Yes sir! This money won't last forever I know. You don't have to tell me!"_ She said to Russia, knowing what he was asking her.

Russia chuckled lightly, not in that usual creepy way he chuckles, like he's about to kill something. It was light and cool, kind of like the breeze of a chilly autumn day that tickles your nose, _"Good then, now run along."_

"_Thank you mister,"_ Suddenly she hugged Russia with great gratitude, _"Thank you so much; you saved my life. I'll never forget you."_

She let go of him, turned around and ran off in the other direction.

Russia turned around as well, looking _relieved_.

"_Hey mister!"_ Anya shouted, quickly turning around like she remembered something, _"I never got to ask for your name!"_

Surprised, Russia turned and shouted back, _"My name's Ivan!"_

Anya smiled one of the most beautiful smiles Alfred had ever seen, like one of someone who just met their guardian angel, _"Thank you, Ivan!" _She said then running off down the street.

"R-Russia, you saved her?" Alfred thought as he watched Russia walk down the street in the opposite direction the girl ran. "Why?"

Alfred looked from Russia to his hands, still clinging to the tree branch. "I have all the evidence I need to convince President Carissa, but..." Alfred narrowed his eyes in determination and looked to Russia, "I have to find out why Russia saved her."

And with that Alfred took off, jumping from tree to tree, rooftop to rooftop, following Russia all the way back to what Al assumed to be Russia house, back at the government district.

Russia got out his key, unlocked the door, and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it. Alfred thought of sneaking inside but Russia probably had some sort of badass security system. But luckily for Alfred, Russia went up to his study, which just so happened to have a huge window and a tree right outside of it.

"Okay," Al thought to himself as he adjusted 'Granny Smith's Hearing Aid' - a hearing aid he invented that allows you to hone in on a certain place and hear what's happening even through 6 foot thick walls – "You've got some explaining to do…"

_To be continued…_

America: Hoooh! Plot twist! …I-it is a plot twist, right? Right?!

Me: I don't know. It might be a trick…

America: What?! How?

Me: Well Russia might have spotted you and faked that whole thing.

America: *Cries in corner* I'm so confused!

Russia: It's not much of a plot twist now. You kind of spoiled it with the updates…

Me: -_- Shut up, I just learned a shit ton about the holocaust at the time. I was upset.

Russia: You totally ruined the big plot twist you've been saving up for, haven't you?

Me: S-shut up! There'll be new viewers! They won't know!

Russia: We'll they sure do know now.

Me: …

Russia: And all the new viewers are thoroughly confused now, since you always delete your updates.

Me: -_- …No, no Russia, please go on. I'm _sure_ the readers want to read my emotion meltdown of when I learned about Auschwitz. Yes, let's keep that in so the readers can have nightmares for three and a half days.

*Well anyway rubles are the Russian currency and 8,000,000 rubles are roughly 250,000 dollars. Yay for Russia have two hundred fifty thousand dollars for spare change! 8D

*And I googled 'white house of Russia' and that linked me to a wiki page that told me that the they have one and everyone calls it 'the Russian White House' and I'm too lazy to look any further, sorry.

*Okroshka Is Russian food. Yay for google for making life easy.

Also please note that this chapter did _not_ cooperate with me; it so did not turn out the way I wanted it to. It's so long yet so short and so shitty! Damn! It is so much better in my head! And why do I keep writing "and with that…"?! **WORDS Y U NO COME OUT RIGHT?! **

Well anyway I'm over all happy with the last 3/4th and I hope you are too. Next time Russia, _or should I say __**Ivan**_, will be explaining what the hell is going on. And after that comes the fun part! *Evil grin*


	4. Russia and Ivan

Hetalia is not owned by me in any way. I do not profit from this. This is a fanfiction; it is not real in any way, shape, or form. I do not want to offend anyone. This is not a political statement. The Russian government is not actually doing this. There might be some OOC-ness. I'm stating the obvious.

Pure Violet Is Killing Me Chapter 4

Russia and Ivan

_..._

America settled himself quietly on the large tree branch.

"I've gotten myself this far without any trouble. Let's hope it stays that way…" Although Alfred invented all of his insane devises, he wasn't completely certain if Russia was able to tap into his technology.

He got invisibility suit from Tony and from there, he dissected the technology until he processed it into a completely invisible fabric. So it was unlikely that Russia would even believe in his alien technology, let alone track it. And the rest he just invented himself. But that wasn't any guarantee that Russia couldn't see him, that he didn't have superior technology, that he didn't fake that whole thing with Anya, that he didn't know that Alfred was watching him from right outside his window!

Al watched quietly as Russia walked into his office. Putting down his briefcase, he sat down on the laree swivel chair in front of his desk. He opened the black box and retrieved a stack of papers. Robotically he wrote things down, filled a few things, and signed a few documents. It was a good three, long, cold, and not so patient hours until Russia ended his work.

An hour later when he finished his work, he placed his pen down carefully on the slick black desk, stood up, and walked over to the window. Alfred gulped. He prayed Russia couldn't see him, "Please, please, please, please, please!"

Russia pulled back the curtains, letting the light of the night fill the room. He surveyed the grounds, fiercely and suspiciously. Alfred could tell he was looking for trespassers, for him. He completely surveyed the grounds without moving from where he stood.

"There's no way he can see me. There's no way he can see me! There's absolutely _no way_ he can see me!"

Just as Alfred thought he was done Russia looked into the tree, straight at Alfred. As he searched the tree for any disturbances he came across the branch Al sat on. His gaze tracing Alfred's portrait and then violet met cerulean and their eyes locked.

Alfred gulped, "Here we go…"

Russia's eyes narrowed.

"Shit!" Alfred thought, ready to cheese it out of there, but he forced his body to stay still, to not make a sound, to not rusted the branches, to not be seen.

Russia turned away from the window, briskly walked over to his desk, and fished something out of the top drawer. In his hand was some sort of device. It looked like a cross between a taser and a radar detector. He turned some dialers and flipped some switches and pointed it straight at were Alfred sat, frozen.

It beeped and lit up. He looked at the devise and sighed in a short lived relief, "No cameras…"

"H-he didn't see me?" Alfred questioned. He could have sworn they locked eyes. "Wait," Al's paranoid side piped in, "What if he saw me and is pretending he didn't see me?! What if he faked it! What if that thing is some sort of poison shooting death ray… thing! What if-" At that moment Alfred stopped, dead in his tracks. Russia was undoing his scarf.

He was taking his scarf off. Russia never took his scarf off, _ever_.

He had it since he was discovered, since he was founded. No one ever saw him without it. It was rumored that the scarf was part of him. And in a way, it was. It was part of his being. No matter what happened he wore that scarf, through peace, through war, through everything.

The only person that saw him without his scarf was China. And he only saw him without it once – in the 4000 years of his life. It was when they were both young are not very experienced in war and the like. But still Russia nearly gauged his eyes out after he realized China saw him without his scarf.

And after that _no one_ has seen him without it.

When questioned of what lay underneath the plush cloth, China refused to speak a word. His eyes would widen and he would shake his head violently in denial, peeking over his shoulder to see if Russia was behind him.

Russia folded his scarf with immense care and placed it on his desk lovingly.

And for the first time in thousands of years someone saw what lay underneath. Alfred gasped. Alfred then understood why Russia never wanted anyone to see him without his scarf.

Scars. There were scars. Everywhere.

Old scars, new scars, fading scars that would never truly disappear covered his neck. They were dark and gruesome, harsh and painful. There were scars from war, from revolution, from hate from, from famine, struggling to survive, from sickness, from death, all from death.

Ivan sighed.

The meeting was over. His boss didn't know. Marcus escaped with his life. Anya was saved. He had gotten through the day and like every other day Russia walked to his house, calmly disarmed and rearmed the security system, hung up his coat on the coat rack, walked up the stairs to his office, put down his briefcase on his work table, sat down in his chair, finished his paper work and… broke down.

It was like clockwork. The second he put took off his scarf, his precious precious scarf, the tears streamed out. "What have I done?" Ivan said to himself as he paced across his office, "How could have America caught on? I've done everything so perfectly! I've tried so hard to protect my people!"

"Why!" He asked, screamed, to God, to the world, to no one. "Why did that idiot have to get involved? Why did he have to fuck everything up? Years! It'll take years to get it back to where I had it!"

"He's going to start WW3! Fucking idiot! Damn it all! I can't go into war my army is too strong! Even if half the world was up against me I'd still win. Hell if the rest of the world was against me it'd be a 50/50 chance! I can't take that risk. And I can't have any more people die."

Ivan's eyes narrowed in anger and he glared into nothingness, "He doesn't think I hid this for a reason?! If anyone knew that my government is killing my people the next world war would start! Millions would die. My government and army is just too strong. It's too far gone. No war, no rebellion, _nothing_ can stop them!"

He held his head in his hands, "My people are weak and all hope is long gone. They believe it now, to be 'Pure Violet'. I don't know what to do now. Am I going to have to start all over again? Is America going to start war? No! I can't let that happen! All the years of infiltrating _**my own**_ government will be for nothing! The only way to stop my government is from the inside, slowly but surely. My government is so corrupted. No revolution or war can stop them. I've tried so many times and it all failed. Only _I_ can do this. Only I know the intricacies of the power struggles, the bribes, the murder, of the perfect corruption. I have to take down my government for the inside; there's no other way!"

Ivan closed his eyes in shame, "By the time I realized that everything had gone to hell, it was all too far gone. My bosses had created a perfect loop of bribes, and murder, and fraud, so they could always cling to power. All of my bosses clinged to power, never letting go. They didn't care for my people; all they wanted was money and power. The slaves, the death, the wrong doings, and now this 'Pure Violet Russian' plan!? For hundreds of years I've been changing my politics from the inside to the best of my ability. I tried so hard to stop it! But I couldn't. I have been countless wars, I done so much wrong, seen so much lost, destroyed so many lives." He looked at his hands and gripped them, "There is so much blood on my hands. I have to stop this… only _**I **_can stop this. Not America, not revolution, not even Russia, only I –Ivan Braginsky - can stop this."

Ivan sat up and took a breath. "I have to make sure that America doesn't figure this out. I can't put my people in any more danger. I have to save them! There can't be any more death."

He clutched his chest tightly and he closed his eyes, "I can feel them dying. My people are being killed. The ground of my land is being stained blood red… Anya, I'm sorry you have to grow up in a nation like this, a nation that's killing its own people! I'm so sorry!"

"Children, I'm killing children…" He cried. Russia began to cry.

"He's crying?" Alfred thought, unable to believe that _Russia_ was crying, and crying hard at that. He had his head in his hands. His shoulders were not erect, proud, or steady. They were limp, shaking, and weak.

"God I'm sorry." He kept repeating, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! _I'm sorry_!" He slammed his hands down on his desk with a huge _bang_; startling Alfred and making him jump a bit.

Suddenly Ivan began to cough hysterically. The grip on his chest tightened as he doubled over in pain. He grabbed the edge of his desk to keep himself standing. His breathing was shallow and his eyes were like saucers.

"No, not again…" The pain that accumulated in his chest began to swell and travel through his body. His heart was burning and felt like it was going to implode on itself.

His stomach was turning and churning as acids mixed with each other, making him feel like vomiting his digestive system out. His throat was on fire and he couldn't breathe. Strikes of pain coursed through his body that felt like electricity striking him at every nerve. In an attempt to breathe he began to cough, trying to clear his throat that felt like it was caked with sand. His hand the desperately clung to the desk flew to his mouth. He fell to his knees as his vision blurred and he saw red.

Blood dripped down through the cracks in his hand that clutched his mouth. He was coughing up blood. Violently more and more blood traveled up Russia's throat and out of his blood stream.

His vision became blurred. The room was spinning as the walls collapsed around him. Feeling a huge wave coming, Russia slammed his hands on the ground to brace himself for the brutal on slot of blood he coughed up.

When it finally stopped he collapsed to the floor, in a pool of his blood. He breathed for what felt like the first time in hours and swallowed the last of the blood still in his mouth.

He chuckled lightly, "'…_you're becoming stronger with each passing day?_' Hah. I'm not becoming stronger; I'm dying…" And with that his vision blurred once again. His body became numb as the darkness overtook him.

Alfred watched as Ivan's head fell back into the pool of blood that surrounded him.

…

Another blood stained towel, another nightmare to remember, and yet another scar on his neck later Ivan stood in front of his front door. He took a breath and prepared himself for another day of his peoples' death.

When he stepped outside there was a crack underneath him, not the crack of fresh snow, which Ivan knew by heart, it was more like… paper? He looked down and underneath his boot was a note.

He lifted it from the ground, opened the envelope, and began to read it. It went like this:

_Russia,_

_I know what you're doing. I know and understand everything. If you don't believe me then well, this is what I know._

_I know that you're making children pay to be in an orphanage. I know that you'll kill them if they're not adopted within the year. I know that a man named Marcus Bellowine is going home with a broken finger because it was the only way you could save him from dying at the hands of your 'President'. _

_I know that Anya's parents died in a tragic house fire and she was set to be killed by your government. And I know that you saved her, from your own soldiers._

_I know that your government is killing your people in order to breed them into 'Pure Violet Russians'. I know that your government is corrupt, and has been for a long time._

_And I know that you're trying to stop it._

_I want to help you._

_Please meet me at the clearing on the tip of Blue Peak Mountain. I know you know where it is. You are your own nation after all._

_-A friend_

_P.S Don't worry about anyone reading this. I wrote this in a special ink that I invented that can only be seen by the person's DNA that I infuse into the ink. So only you can see it. (But you can still burn it you want.)_

…

_To be continued…_

Okay, so that's chapter 4. I hope you enjoyed it and I'm so sorry that I'm late! I admit it, I put off writing this chapter all week and now I'm late and the chapter's shorter than I wanted it to be! And it's not as edited as I wanted it to be! _Forgive me my sins!_ Also I had a bit of a hard time deciding when or when not to use Russia's human name in this chapter. I also wanted the scar scene to be a lot longer a more graphic but I didn't have the time.

Over all I wanted the whole thing to be longer… Oh and 'cheese it' is this thing I like to say when running way from a fight in video games… I think it's funny…

(Also I totally made that mountain up.)

We haven't had a lot of Alfred in the story thus far, which is unintended and something I wanted to put into this chapter, but as you can see I don't have time… But that will be fixed in the next chapter.

I would like to thank all of my lovely followers, reviewers, and favoriters! I would list you all but that would take up time that I need to use for finishing the chapter… I'm sorry!


	5. Trust?

Oh shit! Ivan's the good guy? Well I guess that's why he said "King" and "Pure Violet Russian" in quotation marks! Oh, aren't I thorough? Not really, I think I'm clever but you guys all know that's not true. And you should understand what's going on… and least I hope you do. I think I put everything down last chapter… Oh also, for anyone who cares Ivan and everyone else in the last chapter was speaking in Russian. Alfred learned Russian (in my continuity) after the Cold War and thus everything was translated because, oh you get the point!

(Also I wrote the majority of this with a terrible cold and was falling asleep in my chair half the time do to exhaustion. Not lying. So please forgive me if you don't like this chapter.)

Any way I don't profit from this in anyway. I don't own APH or the characters from it. All I did was write this. Also if you couldn't guess this is in no way real in any way, shape, or form. This is in no way a political statement nor am I accusing the Russian government of anything. This is just something I thought up and wrote down. Enjoy.

Pure Violet Is Killing Me

Chapter 5

Trust?

…

… _I want to help you._

_Please meet me at the clearing on the tip of Blue Peak Mountain. I know you know where it is. You are your own nation after all._

_-A friend_

Ivan's heart stopped. He couldn't think."N-no… NO! It's gone! It's all gone! Everything I've done, all the people who died, it's all for nothing… it's all for nothing…"

He stumbled backwards and tripped easily, his back landing on the nearby wall. His legs failed him quickly and he sunk to the floor.

"How?" He questioned. "How could anyone know this? No… that doesn't matter. What does matter is I need to know who knows this and what their real intentions are."

Ivan stood up, the letter gripped in his hands. "Who is this? Could be a resistance member? But how would they have been able to spy on me without me knowing? How did they know about Marcus, that all happened inside the 'King's' private office? And no normal person could be able to get past that kind of security. But putting that beside what if they were able to pull it off and it is the resistance?"

His head fell to his hands, "I thought I put a stop to them. God I don't want to kill anyone else!" Ivan's heart began to ache. He could feel the tears of guilt coming once again, "No. I have to stay strong."

He took a steadying breath. "Alright, but what if it isn't a resistance member? …Could it be America? No. There's no way that buffoon could even get in to the country, let alone follow me all day without me detecting him. Then if it isn't a resistance member, and it isn't that idiot, then… no."

Ivan's eyes widened as he came to a terrifying conclusion, "Could it be my government?! Did he catch on? Do they know?" Fear and anxiety hit Ivan like a tidal wave. "If they know then everything's over. If they know they are going to kill me. I can't let that happen. If I die then my people will have no chance. I can't die yet. I have to save my people! If they kill me they'll create a new nation! One that believes their sick lies, then everything will be over. Wait, wait. I have to calm down."

Ivan took several breaths, trying to steady his mind. "Okay, if they knew completely they would have killed me already, publicly maybe. They wouldn't try some trick to get me into the woods and kill me secretly. They would do this as a test. They're suspicious. The 'King' wants to know if his precious 'Pure Violet' nation has turned against him. Well guess what your 'Majesty' that's not happening."

…

His gun steady in his right pocket, and the letter in his left, Ivan climbed up Blue Peak Mountain. He wore his favorite long grey coat, which he had for centuries, his best winter boots that he made himself when he was young, and of course his treasured scarf. If he was going to die that day then he was going to die in _his_ clothes.

Leaving deep footprints in the otherwise untouched snow, Ivan ascended Mt. Blue Peak. Green pine and fir trees were covered with fresh snow, masking their color and creating a clear white world. Ivan was getting closer to the clearing. He could feel it.

He desperately surveyed the land, looking for any sign of life, footprints, rocks or trees without snow, out of place snow that covered tracks, movement, anything. But, there was nothing. Everything was still, eerily still. He didn't so much as see animal tracks. He didn't let his guard down for a second.

"It snowed last night. They could have staked out here and waited for snow to cover them naturally." He thought as his grip on his gun became tighter.

He was almost there. He could see the clearing about 100 feet away from him.

He readied his gun, still hidden in his pocket and retrieved the note, holding up in the air.

As maliciously as he could Ivan screamed, "Seems like you got the wrong address resistance members! Now come out and fight me! I will not let you stop the 'purification' of my country!"

Ivan heard rustling in front of him. Expecting an ambush, he turned to where the noise came from. Ivan stared into the middle of the still, empty clearing. Suddenly there was a hand in the middle of the air, disembodied. In the middle of the clearing, surrounded by air and nothingness floated a hand.

With no arm connected to it, it pulled back what seemed to be some sort of curtain, literally pulling the picture of the clearing back to reveal the body it belonged to. Ivan's gaze traveled up the arm to the face of what had to be some sort of spirit that could control the boundaries of space. When he stopped at the face that belonged to that once disembodied hand, the world stopped.

America. America stood in front of him.

Pure unfiltered rage consumed him as he locked eyes with America. Fire filled his eyes and his mind went blank as instinct took him over. He didn't feel the ground underneath his feet as he ran straight at his enemy. He didn't sense the time; one second he saw America appear from nowhere and the next he was in front of him. He grabbed the front of America's clothes with his right hand and slammed him against a tree, crossing at least seven feet without taking the time to breath.

Alfred grunted when his head banged against the sharp bark of the tree as Ivan growled. With his left hand Ivan grabbed his gun out of his pocket and slammed it to the side of Alfred's head.

"Что вы знаете?!" He screamed in Russian, too enraged to speak in English.

"Ow-" Alfred said foolishly, before Ivan pulled him back an inch or two away from the tree, then slamming him back to where he was, being held above the ground like a rag doll.

"What are you doing here? What do you know!" Ivan demanded.

"Could you put me down? I did tell you in the letter."

Ivan pressed the gun into Alfred's head harder and growled, "I will kill you America. _NOW TELL ME!_"

Ivan was enraged. His teeth were bared, his hair disheveled, and his eyes filled with righteous fury. Alfred's head was ringing and his sight was unfocused, but he could sense the importance of the situation.

Alfred took a breath, calming himself down and looked at Ivan very seriously, "Your government got out of control. All of a sudden they were killing your citizens. Being the rational thinker you are you didn't start a civil war that you knew would lose. Because your army is too strong for your people to overthrow you decided to continue changing your government from inside, which apparently you've been doing for a while."

Ivan looked at him with a _very_ confused look.

"What in the hell are you talking about?!"

"That you're trying to stop this 'Pure Violet Russian' plan. You Ivan-"

Ivan was inches away from his face, his glare blazing. Alfred could feel the hatred emitting from his body. Ivan growled.

"Don't you _dare_ call me by my human name! You have no right!"

"Iv-" Alfred stopped himself to save another head-to-tree, "Russia listen to me, please. I want to help you, not as America but as Alfred."

Ivan glared into Alfred's eye studying them, looking for lies.

"Russia I understand. If my army attacked everything you've worked, all the people who sacrificed their lives, for would be for nothing… and I wouldn't win."

Ivan kept his face from changing. He still stared at Alfred searching for truth, lies, anything. He was confused, frightened, and on high alert. He wasn't prepared for this, not in the slightest. The last thing he expected was for America to literally appear from thin air, forget about what he was telling him. Help? Alfred wanted to help him? And he knew? He knew that Ivan was taking down his government from the inside?

Alfred could see the confusion in Ivan's eyes.

"I know this is confusing but please, listen to me. I want to help you stop your government. I want to help you save your people. I know it's hard to believe but I understand."

Ivan looked at him angrily. "How could you ever understand?" He growled.

"I trailed you all day yesterday. I heard your conversation with your 'boss'. How you planned on killing anyone who couldn't pay their taxes. I recorded it too, the whole thing, even the blatant confession of the 'Pure Violet Russian' plan."

Ivan's grip became tighter as anger and fear welled up with each word.

"I saw what you did to Marcus. At the time I didn't realize that you did that to save him. But after you left your 'King' I followed you, taking strange paths and obscure detours. I became more curious. Then you saw that girl. Anya. She was alone in the street in a burnt pink winter coat, crying. When you asked her what was wrong and she told you that she was an orphan that couldn't pay her taxes I thought you were going to kill her, right on the spot. But then, your soldiers came up the side walk. You said something to her and gave her a bracelet."

Though Alfred's neck was becoming red from Ivan's hand holding him up above the ground with it, Alfred laughed lightly, "But instead of killing her, and doing what you were taking about doing just a few minutes ago, you saved her. You protected her."

Chuckling again Alfred said, "I just about fell off the tree when you gave her 8,000,000 ruble." He couldn't help but laugh, "That threw me for one hell of a loop. I was so confused after that. So I followed you home and you told me the rest."

"What?!"

"I know, it's hard to believe but, could you please let me down now? I'm starting to choke."

"That's the point." Ivan growled.

Frustration gathered within him and Alfred snarled, "Listen Russia, I understand the situation. I want to help you save your people. Please! Let me help you!"

"Why in the bloody depths of hell would I trust you?"

"Please, I want to help you. I'm not here as _America_. I'm here as Alfred Jones."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"In my pocket is my camera. On it is all the evidence that I need to convince my president to declare war. Take it."

Ivan's hands were full though. With his gun in his left hand, and his right holding Alfred against the tree about 8 inches off the ground, Ivan had to let something go. He opted for Alfred.

Alfred fell from the height, landing on his feet and hurting his spine. Raising his hand to massage his pulsing neck Alfred heard the click of a gun.

"Move and I shoot."

Alfred moved his eyes up to see Russia's gun pointed straight at his chest.

"Hands above your head."

Alfred resisted the urge to make a cop joke, knowing that was trying to earn Russia's trust. He did as he was ordered, doing his best to stay as still as possible.

Holding the gun steady in his left hand, Ivan tentatively descended his right to Alfred's left pocket. Ivan's eyes jotted from Alfred's face, to his pocket. Waiting for Alfred to pull out a knife and stab him.

Reaching in carefully, Ivan grabbed the camera. Stepping only a foot or two away from Alfred, Ivan again adjusted his gun, aiming it at Alfred's head.

Ivan glared at him with fear inducing eyes, "Back against the tree."

Taking a short sigh Alfred did as he was instructed and took a step back to the tree where he was being held against a moment ago.

Ivan moved in slowly, looking for any sign of resistance.

"I'll ask you now. Do you have any weapons on you?"

"Yes. A gun in my right jacket pocket."

Ivan narrowed his eyes. He wasn't stupid. This could just as easily been a lie to take him off guard, if not more so. Anything could be a lie, to trick him, to backstab him. He was so used to lies, to murder, to snakes that got close to you just to lock you in a room a pull a trigger. He had seen it time and time again. And he sure as fuck wasn't going to let America do that to him.

"You wouldn't happen to have any hand cuffs, would you?" Ivan said slyly. Sure Ivan was on overdrive and high alert, but that didn't mean he couldn't be devious.

"No. But, I have some rope over there." Alfred said turning his head to the empty clearing. He couldn't help but let out a laugh, he must have sounded like a total ass, knowing Ivan had no idea that behind that invisible curtain was Alfred's camp.

Ivan didn't. "Hands above your head." He repeated.

Alfred raised his hands and folded them together. Ivan stepped forward, closing the gap between them. Ivan moved his gun to his right hand and held Alfred's hands against the tree with Ivan's left knee in between Alfred's legs, rendering Alfred defenseless.

With his gun still in his hand Ivan grabbed Alfred's hand gun from his pocket and tossed it aside, along with Alfred's phone. Checking each pocket, Ivan's hand traveled over every inch of Alfred's body. His large hand groped Alfred's chest, back, arms, and legs, until he had been completely patted down from head to toe.

As Ivan's hand pushed back his bomber jacket and shirt Alfred could feel his hot breath against exposed his skin, which was a steamy contrast to cold winter air.

Once that was done and over with Ivan stepped back and asked, "Where's that rope?"

"Um," Alfred took a moment to think. Ivan wasn't going to believe his invisibility fabric was hiding his base camp. He remembered that he had rope in his back pack. Now where is it? Alfred glanced around and spotted his back pack peeking out from his 'invisibility curtain'. "Yeah, in my back pack."

"Where?"

"You're not actually going to tie me up, are you?"

"Listen to me America," Ivan said keeping a steady grip on his gun, "I will do anything to protect my people and from what I see, you know about the 'Pure Violet Russian' plan. I will not let you interfere."

"Russia, I'm not here to interfere! I'm here to help."

"We can talk about this when I'm more comfortable."

…

Alfred was tied to a tree, cold, tired, hungry, and Ivan was sitting in his chair casually pointing his gun at him.

"I want you to know something America, so listen and listen good. I will do anything to save my people. If that means keeping you tied to a tree until I have resolved this, then so be it. If that means killing you, then so be it."

Ivan's eyes were extremely concentrated as he glared into Alfred's eyes.

"I am going to ask you some questions. Answer them honestly and quickly, or," Ivan stood and walked over to Alfred's defenseless figure, "there will be immense consequences."

"Okay." Alfred said steadily.

"How did you do that, come out of nowhere?"

"I created an invisible fabric from alien technology. No one but myself and Tony know how to make this fabric, especially not my government."

Ivan looked at him questioningly, "Why would you keep that from your government?"

"Because I was afraid that they might use it for something evil in the future, I want to be in control of something that powerful."

Ivan was silent for a minute, contemplating. Al knew he was thinking and let him.

"You sent me that letter?" He said raising his head.

"Yes."

"And the ink?"

"Like what I said in the letter. It's an ink that I also invented. It will only be seen by the person who has the same DNA which I infuse into the ink, which of course can only be one person. My government does not know about this either, not because I don't want them to. I just like having a trick up my sleeve."

"Now." Ivan said sitting back down on the pull-out chair he found while searching through Alfred's backpack, "How did you find out?"

"About the 'Pure Violet Russian plan?" Alfred's voice lowered when the reality of everything hit him. This wasn't him playing super hero or even declaring war on someone. This was him Alfred F. Jones, trying to save lives by putting his own on the line. He didn't have his army or his allies to back him up. It was just him.

"Yes." Ivan's voice lowered as well. He never thought he was going to have this conversation with another nation. For some reason, this made things real. This confirmed that Russia was in fact killing his own people. Ivan despised it.

"Evidence and facts that didn't add up. When I saw that your population was going down when the 'purple bracelet fad' took place I knew something was off. I went deeper and dug up any evidence that I could find until I was convinced that it was true."

Ivan looked to the ground in silence. For some reason, this made things real.

He never thought he was going to have this conversation with another nation, that he had to _admit _that he was killing his own people. This was confession. This confirmed that Russia was in fact killing his people. For some reason this hit Ivan's soul like a tidal wave. The past three years had felt like a haze. It felt so surreal, almost like a dream. And now he confessed it. He had to acknowledge it, that he was killing his people.

He was killing his people and Ivan hated it.

"Why are you here?" Ivan asked, somewhere under the distain in his voice there was sorrow and regret. Ivan felt so defeated.

"I told you, to help you."

"Why?"

Alfred sighed in frustration, "Because people are dying and I want to help you stop it!"

"And why should I trust you?" Ivan said anger getting the best of him. Ivan stood and walked over to Alfred, still tied to a tree, "Why in the bloody pits of hell would I put all my people's lives in jeopardy because some stupid little nation wants to play hero?!"

Ivan was glaring at him in rage, breathing heavily, and waiting for an answer.

"Remember in WW2?" Alfred said after a moment of silence, "We put our differences aside to stop the extermination of millions of innocent people. You trusted me then and you can trust me now. I just want to help… If that means going back home and making sure that no one knows of this then that's what I'll do! If that means putting my life on the line, then fine!" Alfred looked intently into Ivan's eyes, pleading for him to understand with a determined stare.

After a few moments had passed and Ivan still hadn't given an answer Alfred spoke up again.

"I know that it's hard to believe, and if I was in your place then I'd probably feel the same way. But, I'm just here to help. I'm not going to tell my government; I'm not going to declare war. I'm just here as Alfred F. Jones, the person not the nation."

Ivan starred at him for moment and sighed.

"You can trust me. I've given you all of the evidence I have, right in that camera; you're free to destroy it. Everything I've told you is the truth. I came here as Alfred, not crazy suspicious America. I just want to help, as Alfred."

Ivan stepped back and ran his hand through his ashen hair, "Fine…" he said under his breath, "Fine!" he said louder.

He turned around and said to Alfred in a demanding voice, "But, don't think that I trust you America. There are rules. For one, you will not leave my sight. Two, you will have no weapons. Three, you will have no contact to your government." Ivan walked over to Alfred's forgotten cell phone and slipped it into his pocket. "Four," Ivan's voice became deeper and more serious. "When I tell you to do something you do it. No questions asked. Five, you put my people's life before yours. If that means I tell you to jump in front of a bullet to save one of my people, you do it."

Ivan grabbed Alfred's face and held it only inches away from his face and growled, "I see you slip up once, if I think for a second that you're against me, trust me America. I will kill you."

Alfred smiled. Finally he had gotten through to him, "Done, and done. Now will you let me down from this tree?"

"No."

_To be continued…_

Okay there's that. Not my best work, for some reason my ability to describe decided to stop working… But, as you might be able to tell I like sexy Alfred thrust against a tree scene. Originally the sexiness was only going to last for a few paragraphs, but I couldn't resist! I mean, _realistically_, Ivan would have patted him down checking for weapons, 'cause you know, he's paranoid and thinks Al's gonna kill him. So… the situation called for it? Yeah… that's my excuse. (I know, I'm such a tease)

Also sorry for the recurring 'he's a nation but a person as well thus –insert plot point here-' plot point, but it's such a fascinating thing to write with! I can't help myself!

So um, there's a lot of shit going on in my life right now and unfortunately this chapter wasn't finished as soon as I want it to be. Or as good as I wanted it to be. :/ I won't go into it because it's hard to talk about but, there are a lot of emotions that I'm trying to push through so please forgive this one for not being that great.

Also! Before writing and posting this story I planned out most of it, (So there wouldn't be a repeat of last time of going 3 months without updating.) up until this point. Yeah... so from this point on I'll be winging it! And don't worry too much. I _do_ know what the ending is and I have a _vague_ idea of how to get there. But, I kind of have no idea how I'm going to work the romance into this!

I got so caught up in the plot that I forgot to work in the romance into the plan… Well we'll see what happens from here on out. So I just hope you enjoy the ride!


	6. Lone Wolf

Alright-y! Chapter 6 here we come! Please forgive me for being so late! I didn't mean for it but writers block, and editing, and getting sick, and AHH! I'm sorry!

Also, if you haven't caught on from the past 5 disclaimers, this is not true, or a political statement, or real. I don't get any money from this and I don't own Hetalia.

Happy reading!

Pure Violet Is Killing Me

Chapter 6

Lone Wolf

"So, what can I do to help?" Alfred said sitting down in his pull-out chair, rubbing his sore wrists where the rope had dug into them. Finally Russia had let him free from his constraints and Al had shown him over to his camping tent, which was roughly the size of a small room and quite well furnished. Ivan had a hard time comprehending and believing the fact that the 'tent' -if you could call it that it was more like a portable room- was hidden behind a curtain made out of America's invisibility fabric.

"I could gather information or supply you with weaponry? Or just good old back up!"

Though he was tired and worn out from being thrust against a tree for the past hours of questioning, Alfred was ready to help out and save some people!

"No, I have all the information I need. And I'm amazed you made it here without getting killed. I doubt you could do it again _with_ weapons." Ivan glared at Alfred in animosity. "And if you did understand what is going on than you would know that revolution would be absolute failure."

Alfred immediately stood, pushing his chair back and standing firm. "I do understand! Your army could over throw 3/4th of the world let alone a revolution! And that's why you have to take down and reform your government from within and without them knowing!" He said defending himself, sounding almost insulted. He was tired of the hours of brutal interrogation. He was just here to help! Why couldn't he get that through his stupid thick skull?!

"I'm here to help!" Alfred said _again_.

Ivan opened his mouth to say something, but shut it and looked away from Alfred.

Ivan was still adjusting to the fact that he was sitting in a surprisingly well furnished, invisible tent the size of a small room, with America... as his ally.

Ivan sighed. He had been working alone to take down his government for so long, he had he on his own for so long. He was so used to working alone, only using his other nations such as Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania, to collect information about anyone finding out about the 'Pure Violet Russian' plan, as pons not allies. And now, here is America offering his help, and not just America either. Alfred? Was America really putting _his own_ life on the line just to save Russia's people?

This entire situation was extremely foreign to Ivan.

Ivan stood up and walked over to the one-way window to his right and looked into the woods outside. Glimmering snow fell onto the evergreen trees. The peak of the mountain was quiet and peaceful. For Ivan this place seemed to stand still in time. It was pure, quiet, and still.

He had forgotten about this place ever since his government fell apart. When he was a child he would come up to this clearing, sit in the very middle, and watch the animals walk around him for hours.

He would see deer, rabbits, birds, squirrels, foxes, walk about, graze on grass, and whenever one spotted him Ivan would smile then the animal would tilt its head in curiosity. They would walk over to Ivan to inspect him and ended up licking his soft young face. These were mostly the more gentle creatures such as deer and rabbits. But never once did they scurry off in fear, like so many did…

It was always a peaceful place. Never did something hostile or gruesome like a fox eating a rabbit happen. This place seemed to be a dwelling of tranquility, of collective peace. Nothing like what was going on in his home. No death. No hate. No fear. No distrust. Just peace.

When he was a boy and he felt lonely in those cold winter nights he would come up here. He would sit there all covered up in winter coats, hats, and his scarf, in an attempt to keep warm, and wait for the animals to come out. His nose and ears would get frostbitten, he'd be chilled to the bone in a few minutes, and he'd be exhausted from the hike, but he endured all that just so he could be with _friends_.

He didn't think of them as 'friends' at the time, never consciously at least.

He endured the physical pain to experience that feeling of acceptance, of kindness, of love. He put aside the physical labor and the pain of hiking up a steep mountain during the dead of winter just to feel that feeling, when the animals would _be_ with him. When they would walk up to him and rub their faces on his hand to get him to pet them. When he would stand still in the middle of the clearing and watch as the community of animals walk around him in total peace. When bunnies would hop up to him and cuddle him, falling asleep in his little lap. For that feeling of love.

He never understood it and still doesn't. All he knew is for some reason in this little corner of his world there was this place where there was no fear, no hate, and everyone abided to the silent covenant of love.

And then he remembered.

_He just wanted to be __**alone**__. _

_Away from the hate, the fear, the death. Blood ran down his cheek from the cut shallowly engraved on his young face from the blade of the enemy. He had to escape. He had to leave. He had to be away from the constant war. He had to run from the enemy. He had to run from people - from hate, from death, from pain, for fear. _

_So he ran. He ran as far as he could, as far away from there as possible. His fists clenched in fear and his eyes shut tightly to barricade himself from the misery, he ran. He ran from the pain over whelming the very blood in his body. He ran from his people's blood spilling over onto the snow covered grass. He ran from the hatred. He ran from the fear. He ran from the death. He ran from the war that no person wanted. And he ran from the war people created. _

_He didn't know how much ground his feet had fled past, nor the time that disappeared in a second. He didn't feel his hands being cuts from pushing through bushes and branches. He didn't feel the flat land growing steeper and steeper, his feet ascending higher and higher. He didn't notice the blood trickling down from his arms and face. _

_He just ran. He ran until his feet failed him and he tripped on something. A rock or a tree branch it didn't matter, all that did was that __**it**__ was gone. He fell flat on his face, snow covering his face and hair._

_He pushed himself of the ground by his small exhausted arms. Ivan looked up. Encircling him was a forest of trees. He looked to the sky. Above him was the clear night sky. White shining stars covered the sky's dark blue canvas, twinkling and providing soft light. In the middle of the night sky the moon, full and beaming, stood watching over this small little clearing shinning down straight where Ivan lay. _

_Sitting himself up Ivan looked around at the trees surrounding him, to the sky above him, and then to the ground beneath him. He was lying in some sort of field. Grass was poking out of the thin layer of snow. There were small purple, pink, and yellow flowers bloomed and shining, somehow unaffected by the weather. _

_The screams of pain and death behind him were gone. He no longer felt the agonizing pain of death in his veins. He wasn't cold from the freezing weather. He didn't think about the war that was raging ever onward. He just sat there in that white and green snow covered clearing at the top of this mountain, feeling… at peace. _

_He could breath. He felt the cool air fill his lungs fully and he exhaled with no difficulty. It wasn't shaking or torn. It was a smooth breath that gave comfort and the promise of safety._

_The beautiful silence was like a trance. Ivan felt inclined to lay down and fall asleep whist the moon watched over him from above. But the silence was stopped by a rustling in the bushes. Ivan's head snapped to the right were the noise had come from. He saw the leaves of the bush rattle and the snow from atop in fall._

_The enemy!_

_Ivan scurried back in fear, using with hands and feet to back away unable to get up. Suddenly his back hit a tree, he had nowhere to go. Paralyzed with fear Ivan couldn't move. The rustling of the bushes stopped. Ivan looked to them to see who was there and when his eyes had focused he was a rabbit, small and cute._

_It sniffed the air quietly and licked its paw then grooming its ear. Ivan's heavy breaths came to a stop._

"_A bunny?" Ivan said without thinking._

_The rabbit looked over to Ivan quickly, standing on its hind legs._

"_Don't run away!" Ivan said reaching his hand out, "I won't hurt you!" He expected for the rabbit to run off. But it didn't. It just looked at him for a moment, tilting its head then hopping over to the middle of the clearing where Ivan had been lying._

_It circled itself a few times, as if inviting Ivan over. Very confused and still dazed Ivan crawled over to the bunny rabbit. He reached out his hand to pet the bunny in front of him but stopped midair. "This bunny won't let me pet it. It will run away in fear like all the others." Ivan's heart felt heavy and eyes felt hot._

_Tears began to stroll down Ivan's face and onto the soft ground below. His hand still in the air the rabbit looked to Ivan's crying face then to his hand. The bunny stood on its hind legs and stroked Ivan's hand with its face._

_Ivan's crying stopped. He looked to the creature below and saw that the rabbit on its own accord had shown affection directly to him. _

_He was so happy._

…

_Ivan was sitting in the clearing, as he had done for weeks straight now, waiting for a deer, bird, or rabbit to come out and join him when suddenly from out of the silence there was a rustling in the bushes to his left. Ivan and learned not to be afraid of this otherwise frightening sound up here in the mountains because it always promised companionship. Coming out from the branches of the green snow covered bush came a beautiful grey wolf. _

_It looked over to Ivan with blue, sky colored eyes that seemed to be pleading for help. Ivan looked down from the wolf's pain stricken eyes and to its leg from which out poured a steady stream of blood. Ivan's eyes widen in shock as the blood ran down the wolf's leg and onto the pure white snow covered ground. The lone wolf looked to Ivan in a silent plea. Seeing how the wolf could no longer stand on its injured leg Ivan quickly raced over to the wolf and with all they energy he could muster he picked the wolf up and carried it over to the middle of the clearing, placing it down carefully on the patch of grass he had seen sitting on._

_Now lying on its side and finally off her leg the wolf sighed and Ivan saw that it had relaxed greatly. Its breathing was shallow and looked exhausted. _

"_What happened to you?" Ivan asked worried._

_The wolf looked up to him with bright blue eyes and quietly whimpered._

"_D-don't worry! I'll help you!"_

_Ivan quickly took off his gloves revealing them to the icy cold air. Ivan sucked in a sharp breath as the frigid air struck his small fingers. He ignored the pain and began to gently separate the grey wolf's fur away from the wound. Now with the blood stained fur out of the way Ivan saw that the wolf had been shot with an arrow._

"_Okay," Ivan said looking into the wolf's eyes and stroking her fur calmingly, "This is gonna hurt. But, it'll make you better. Okay?"_

_Gripping the arrow with his right hand and holding the wolf down with his left, Ivan took a deep breath and pulled the arrow out of the wolf with a single motion._

"_Ouu!" Howled the wolf. Her cry was a pain filled plea that told her story in one agonizing call. _

_She had been separated from her family long ago. One day when she was young, a tragedy befell her pack and she was separated from them. She had spent the rest of her life searching, searching for her family, her friends, the love she had lost._

_As she howled at the moon, crying in the only way she could. Ivan heard her cry of pain, loss, and longing for the love she lost and cried with her. His tears were cold as they strolled down his cheeks. He too knew of the loneliness, the pain, and the longing._

_He fell into the wolf's lap and they cried together in the midst of that cold winter night._

_From that day on Ivan cared for the wolf and nursed her back to health. Every day he hiked up that mountain. He brought her food and bandages. He took care of that grey wolf with the sky blue eyes until she was well and able to walk again. He endured the cold nipping at his ears, nose, and any other part of him that wasn't covered up, especially his neck. Though still a very young nation Ivan had several scars running up and across his neck. _

_The dry cold weather nipped and stung at each scar. It felt like needles were poking at each scar. It hurt. His neck was hurt with nothing to protect it. But Ivan didn't care. All he wanted was to feel that feeling he had up there in the clearing where everything was peaceful. And when he was with that wolf his heart felt so complete. So every day he would hike up the mountain to be with her._

_He cared for her until she was able to stand. On the day she stood on her own Ivan jumped up and down in joy and excitement exclaiming, "You did it! You did it!" He was so happy that he didn't notice the sadness in the wolf eyes._

_But, he never knew what became of her. For one day, when he came to the clearing that was so dear to his heart he saw her, the wolf, his friend standing with her back to him._

_She heard Ivan and looked over her shoulder with sad eyes. She looked into Ivan's eyes for a long silent moment that felt like an eternity. She blinked once and pointed her nose over to the forest ahead of her and slowly back to Ivan. _

_Ivan was confused. Why was her back turned? Why did she point to the forest? Why were her eyes so sad? Why was she… leaving? Ivan gasped in realization and he fell to his knees. _

_At that moment the wolf knew that Ivan understood. She turned her head away from Ivan and to the forest. Her head hung lower. And she began to walk off._

"_Wait, don't go!" Ivan shouted, reaching out his hand in an attempt to stop her from leaving._

_She looked back at Ivan again, this time turning fully. She looked into Ivan eyes, then to the sky and howled the same howl she cried the first day they met. A cry of loneliness, of longing, of sadness and yearning for the love she lost._

_Ivan understood that howl, that aching feeling of loneliness and longing for the void in his heart to be filled. With tears streaming down his face Ivan cried along with the grey wolf._

He had completely forgotten about those weeks up here in the mountains. He had forgotten the feeling he had when those animals would lick his face gently. He had forgotten that he endured freezing weather just so he could experience that feeling. He had forgotten about the grey wolf with sky blue eyes that was the closest friend he had ever had. And he had forgotten the pain when she left.

And without knowing his hand reached up and touched his scarf. And then he remembered.

"_You did it! You did it!" He exclaimed in joy as he saw her stand tall._

_The next day Ivan hurried up the mountain. He couldn't wait to see her again. Though it was a particularly cold day Ivan was too excited to focus on the pain emanating from his scars up the long hike. She was there as always. But this time she was standing! Not only that but she held something in her mouth._

"_What do you have there?" Ivan asked walking up to her and stroking her fur._

_Her sky blue eyes seemed to be darker as she looked at Ivan, sadder. She bowed her head and dropped the item she held then nudged it forward with her nose._

"_Is this for me?" Ivan asked picking up the soft fabric._

_The wolf looked up and nodded her head once._

"_A scarf!" Ivan quickly wrapped the soft plush scarf around his neck. The pain from his scars were gone. It was warm and soft on his skin. It felt just like he was cuddling up against the wolf's coat. He felt so loved._

"_I'm so alone." _Ivan didn't think these words. He felt them.

…

"Please. Let me help." Alfred's voice seemed so young and innocent, so honest and kind.

Ivan turned away from the clearing, the memories, and to the man speaking to him. Ivan looked into Alfred's pleading eyes. He had found out everything that's happening with his government. He had found out Ivan's secret. And he knew what Ivan had to do and why he has been doing it. And he wishes to help.

Ivan sighed once and lowered his head in thought, "I will accept this alliance with you America."

Alfred perked up and said like an excited child, "So you trust me?"

Ivan looked over to him and said quietly, "My trust is to be earned America. This is merely an alliance to ensure the safety of my people."

Alfred shoulders slacked and he pouted. "You know, I'd really rather you call me Alfred."

That threw Ivan for a loop. He turned his head around in confusion. "Call you by your human name? Why?"

Alfred shrugged, "Well, because I didn't come here as _The United States of America_," He said impersonating just about every President of his when they scolded him by using his 'official' name, "I came here as Alfred F. Jones, on my own accord, by my own decision. That's who I am so I'd like you to call me by my name." Alfred then grinned his stupid happy grin of his. And Ivan somehow understood.

This wasn't a country. Not a personification of peoples' will. No, this was a man who came on his own, by his own choices, by his own will, to help. To help _him_. To aid him. To watch his back for him. But, why? Why would he help him? His long time enemy and rival?

"_So!_" Alfred said exaggerating the annoyance in his voice, "What can I do to help?"

Ivan's eyes lowered and he looked away from Alfred, in grief and sorrow. "…"

_To be continued…_

I'm so sorry for being late! Forgive me! This story's been fightin' me every step of the way and I just got over a terrible virus, again! Next time Ivan and Al get more cuddly! Yeah! (Also I just love using commas don't I? I mean every chance I get I use them! I'm making a sentence the size of a paragraph with these things! XD)


	7. Guilt

Chapter 7. Aw yeah! Ivan and Alfie are getting cuddly! I'm really sorry I've been so late! My internet died! And then my computer died! The same day I got the internet back my computer dies! I know right? Well, anyway they're working again and we survived another apocalypse! Let's see… I think this has been my 4th apocalypse. On to many more!

Happy holidays everyone and happy New Year! Please forgive me for being late!

But enough with me talking like an idiot! Onto the dis-claimers!

Hetalia and its characters are not owned or made by me. This is not a real thing and it's not actually occurring. This is in no way a political statement or accusation. I don't make any money doing this either. (Also I have _nothing_ against Russia or its people; this is entirely fiction, and I just like being dramatic. :P)

Happy reading.

Pure Violet Is Killing Me

Chapter 7

Guilt

"…" Ivan looked down. Dark emotions in his heart swirled together. He felt ashamed. "There is something."

Alfred frowned his brows in confusion. A minute ago Ivan was vigorously interrogating him with all the energy and drive he had ever seen. Ivan was yelling and accusing him in paranoid excitement for a misplaced cough every two seconds. But suddenly without any warning, he just stopped talking. He turned completely silent.

Ivan's head faced down as his mouth turned to a straight line. His hand gripped his scarf, clinging to it like it was the last connection he had to reality. His violet eyes darkened as he stared into the distance.

There was a long, terrible, strange silence until Alfred finally asked hesitantly, "What is it?"

Without turning to face Alfred, Ivan said quietly, "A rebel group is forming."

"Okay, so?" Alfred asked. He was beginning to get frustrated because things weren't making sense. He didn't understand!

"First Russia interrogates me for hours on end, paranoid and convinced that I'm here to kill him. Then I gain his trust. Well sort of… Then I ask what I can do to help, Russia screams at me _again_, then he looks out the window, and now he's totally silent? What's he talking about? What was so terrible with a rebel group forming that he went silent? This doesn't make any sense!" Alfred thought, "Why is he– Oh…"

And then he realized it. Ivan shut down, he went silent because… he has to kill them.

The only way he can keep is people safe is to eliminate that rebel group. If he doesn't they'll just end up killing themselves and the rest of their country with them. If he didn't they'd start a rebellion that could get the whole world involved and end up killing everyone in the process.

Alfred lowered his head in apology. He shouldn't have been so insensitive.

"I…" Ivan began to say but he stopped.

His throat became dry and his lips wouldn't move. He tried to speak but he couldn't.

'I have to eliminate them.' Those words had been thought and spoken in enraged whispers countless times over the past three years. He knew he had to kill them for the greater good. If he didn't then everything would be for nothing. It wasn't an issue. He had accepted the fact that he had to kill his people to save them, even though it hurt him. It hurt him greatly.

But he had to put aside his own suffering for his people. He needed to block out the pain so he could save his people... even if that meant he had to _kill_.

And that's what he did. He blocked out all emotions, so he could do it. He couldn't otherwise. To see the blood of his innocent people being splattered against walls and floors long since forgotten was the most horrible thing for any nation to see.

Especially for Ivan.

Every time the blood of his people would spill from their bodies and the color and life from their eyes would drain until they were nothing but hallow shells of the soul that once resided in that now lifeless corpse was the constant pain in Ivan's chest.

It was the stinging and banging in his head that woke him from his nightmares. It was all the agony in every limb of his body, which shook and pierced every part of him.

Ever since he was little, this constant ache of death tormented him. To cope with the never ending pain Ivan developed a wall - mask that protected his heart from the damage. To keep his emotions from being harmed he would hide them behind that wall, so he wouldn't be affected.

This wall had to become stronger ever since the 'Pure Violet Russian' plan came to pass. He had become further from his emotions and distant. When speaking of 'Pure Violet Russian' plan or 'partaking' in it, he would hide his emotions behind the wall and put on that mask of blank emotionless disinterest and faux that horrible malice he hated so much.

But, even though he hated it with every fiber of his being, being cold and disconnected, he had to. If he didn't then he could never make himself do the things he needed to do – to kill his people.

And now it was gone.

The barrier that had been hiding his emotions and shielding him from the pain of the guilt was gone, nowhere to be found.

"I have to kill them."

The thought of killing innocent people, something he's been able to deal with for years, sent shivers done his spine. It made his stomach felt like a rock. And his head felt like it was collapsing.

His hands began to shake. He couldn't breathe. Panic washed over him. Tears pricked at his bloodshot eyes. He began to pant in need for breath, for oxygen, for something.

He wanted so desperately to cry.

All at once he remembered every person he's had to kill, all the lives that had been lost, that guilt had consumed him mind. Horrendous guilt washed over him. His wall was crumbling down all around him.

"It's all my fault… The death of my people, the death of thousands of innocent people, their blood is on my hands… I could have prevented this. I could have stopped it before it was too late! Oh God, it's all my fault!" His hands were shaking and his breath increased rapidly as each guilt ridden thought filled his mind and clouded his thoughts.

"No!" Ivan thought, desperately trying to stop the paralyzing words, "Stop it! I can't think of that! I have to stay in control!"

He knew if he kept on like this he wouldn't be able to do _it_… to kill his people.

He needed to get a grip on sanity. He needed to focus. Forcing himself to stand up straight, he gripped his hands into fists, grinded his teeth, and opened his eyes, still shaking. He let out a shaking breath, one filled with fear and uncertainty.

He had to get control. He had to stop his emotions of guilt and shame from stopping him from saving his people.

"I have to get control!" He ordered himself frantically in his mind trying to get a grip. He had to stop his head from racing. He had to create another wall. He had to-

"Ivan, are you okay?" A voice said, cutting him from his trance.

Ivan eyes snapped open. He was still panting, trying to get a breath of air into his lungs.

He swallowed and cleared his throat, "I'm fine…"

The thoughts that clouded his mind began to fade. The haze distorting his sight slowly vanished and he began to come to realization of what was around him.

"_Ivan, are you okay?_" The sentence slowly processed in his mind. "…_Ivan, are you okay?_"

"Wait…" He thought, still dazed, "_Ivan? My name?_" He realized, "Ivan!" He was crudely shocked back into reality.

Suddenly every wire in Ivan's brain fixed itself. Every cog was put in to place and his mind ran clearly again.

"Do not call me by that name!" He shouted furiously, shoving Alfred's body away.

Alfred's eyes widened in shock as a forceful hand pushed at his chest, "I-I, I'm sorry…" He stuttered, not quite sure what he did wrong.

This outburst sudden of rage was aimed directly at him. Each time Ivan had yelled at Alfred it wasn't really towards him. It was towards America, the country, not Alfred the human. He screamed and ranted at him because of politics. He didn't want _America_ to do what _America_ was doing. But this was for at Alfred. And Ivan was enraged.

"How dare you? You have no right!" Ivan snarled in rage, his teeth bared in aggression.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" Alfred was again interrupted with a swift jab to the chest. Then Ivan quickly grabbed the collar of his shirt.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Ivan's eyes were filled with fury and hate and guilt. "That name is sacred to me!"

"That was my mane when I was still innocent…" Ivan thought.

_He and the wolf had cried for hours, howling and crying out to the full moon above their heads. They called out together for the same unspoken loss. Love. _

_Ivan sniffed and rubbed his face to rid of the tears. He looked up from the wolf's lap and into her eyes. "My name is Ivan." He said, the tears still falling gently from his face._

_The blue eyed wolf blinked slowly and looked at Ivan's tears filled face. Under the moon lit sky she gently licked them away._

The memory of his first… and only friend had broken him. He was far from the innocent, loving person that beautiful grey wolf once knew. The person known as Ivan had been tainted. He had killed. He had hurt. He was a terrible, horrible person.

Or at least that's what Ivan believed.

"Do you have any idea of what that name means to me?" Ivan gritted his teeth.

Alfred knew that he had done something truly wrong. He saw that Ivan was out of control and he needed to fix it.

Alfred let out a steady breath, "I'm sorry. I didn't know." He looked to Ivan with balanced eyes.

"My people are dying! My government is killing them! I feel them dying constantly!" He screamed, rage, regret and fear taking over his senses.

His barrier had broken down. He had confessed the horrible truth. The feeling of death and pain and guilt had utterly consumed him.

With his emotions running wild and the guilt spilling out from him, Ivan couldn't stop himself, "The people I'm supposed to protect, the people I'm supposed to save are dying at my hand!"

Ivan looked into Alfred's eyes. His breathing was heavy, his hand still gripping Alfred's shirt. Alfred looked up to him with steady, calm, and understanding eyes. Ivan looked to him and then to his clenched hand. He had let himself lose control. And again his mind began to clear.

Slowly he let go of Alfred's shirt. He stepped back and looked at him with a blank face, forcing control. His mouth was melded into a straight line, his eyes fixed with a broken severity.

"Why are you here?" He said.

Alfred heard the regret and sorrow behind the thin layer of distain in Ivan's voice.

"I told you, to help you." He answered.

"Why me? Why do you want to help a nation who's killing his own people?"

"You're fighting to stop it, aren't you? I want to help."

There was a long pause. Ivan's throat was dry. His voice was cracked and his eyes were red. He felt like he had been crying for hours, though a tear had yet to be shed.

"So," Alfred said after the long silence, "what do we do? About the rebel group I mean." Though the words were spoken softly and with the intent of help, it was another painful stab at Ivan's broken mask.

Ivan let out a heavy breath, "We see if the rebel group is even forming. It's only a suspicion."

Alfred looked onto Ivan's ashamed figure with sad eyes. "This is really killing him…" He thought. "Well, I am a hero. So it's time to save everyone!"

Alfred puffed out his chest and put a determined face on. Putting his hands on his hips Alfred marched over to Ivan and placed his hand on Ivan's shoulder.

"Come on, old buddy! We're not gonna get anywhere just sittin' around! Let's go save your people!"

Ivan turned to see Alfred's grinning face. It was strange. Alfred's blue eyes sparkled as bright as the summer sky. His stupid, idiotically happy grin was as white as the untouched snow. His golden blond hair shone like the sun. And in that moment, when his barrier was gone and his emotions were exposed, Ivan felt something.

He felt… _hope_.

In this never ending cycle of death and pain that Ivan thought he could never escape, someone came. Out of nowhere a bright shining beacon of hope had shone upon Ivan. This laughing smiling person had come into his life and gave him hope, in a place where he thought hope was impossible. The feeling in Ivan's heart was amazing.

He smiled.

He smiled an actually honest, happy, hopeful smile. He hadn't smiled like he did since he was a little boy.

"Yeah," He said smiling, "Let's go!"

…

Oh my God, this is so damn short. Why writers' block? Why do you hate me so? I just want to get the next chapter out for everyone who's been waiting so patiently! I just want to write the damn story! And make it be good! Why do you have to make everything suck? Why do you torment me?!

Well anyway, next chapter we're getting some action!


	8. Eyes

Okay every one, Hetalia season 5 is here! I saw the first episode and they all look great! The artwork has been drastically improved and I'm hyped for the rest of the show! Three years of Japanese paid off for these five minutes of no subtitle anime. Ah, language how useless… um I mean useful.

…Oh, and here's chapter 8! And it's long! Yay!

I don't own Hetalia. This is in no way, shape, or form, real. This is entirely fictional and in no way an accusation, political statement, or anything like that. Any similarities to real people, living or otherwise, are completely coincidental and is in no way meant to be offensive. Also, I'm not saying that anyone who lives in the south (of the U.S or anywhere else for that matter) is bad, or racist! No matter where someone lives or where they were born a person should only be judged by their actions, not by things they can't control. At least, that's what I think.

Happy reading!

Pure Violet Is Killing Me

Chapter 8

Eyes

…

Alfred felt somewhat strange walking next to Ivan in the middle of Moscow without his invisibility suit. After everything that had happened and all the things Ivan had told him, spoken or otherwise, Alfred's relationship towards Ivan was drastically different. It wasn't a rivalry or even a truce between two conflicting nations. It was more like… a friendship, a mutual trust and respect for one another. Ivan and Alfred had seen sides of each other that they thought could never be there.

Ivan wasn't some dark terrifying monster that only cared about himself. In fact he was kind and sweet, empathetic and compassionate. He'd do anything for his people and always puts them in front of himself.

And Alfred wasn't an ignorant fool who obsesses over fame and fortune. He was a bright, joy filled, and hopeful person. If not a tad naive. But that was what made him so brave. Even if the odds were stacked against him, if everything was went wrong, he would push on. He would persevere until all sadness had been vanquished. He was a sweet, kind hearted fool.

"_Wait, wait, wait! I thought you just said not to call you by that name. Know I need to?" Alfred asked feeling very confused and lost, and sounding very annoying and idiotic to Ivan._

_Ivan looked to Alfred with an irritated look. "Do you want to get caught? Oh yes, I'm sure 'Hey Russia how's that pirozhki?' won't attract any attention." Ivan then continued to roll his eyes and continued to prepare. _

Ivan's face was mostly blank, Alfred noticed as they walked the cold streets. It was cold, limited, and controlled like the rest of people walking past them.

The trees were beautiful. Alfred had always loved winter scenery. The way the pure white untouched snow laid so delicately on the branches of dark brown trees was truly glorious. But these trees were other worldly. These trees were something he could have never even imagined. The bark of each tree, that were scattered across this grey and dying city, looked as black as the never ending night sky compared to fragile, silver snow which lay on their tiny, boney, branches.

And yet on these dying, hopeless trees, in this desolate, lost city, it was as if each snowflake had its own spot on each tree. As if they were placed ever so gently by angels. They all had a place, a purpose, to create this magnificent sight. The glimmering white shining from the snow was the brightest he had ever seen.

The _light_ was so amazing.

Alfred knew that when the sun shone onto glassy shining snow it would light up as if each flake of snow was its own bright, shining star in the black night sky. This light was over whelming.

That beautifully fragile, purely white, snow shone so bright despite the dark and grim branches it lay on. Though it was in the blackest of black and darkest of dark that weak, fragile, delicate snow shone as brightly as an angel's heavenly light.

Alfred blinked. A snowflake had landed on his nose, breaking his concentration. He looked up at the sky and saw that it had begun to snow. He rubbed his hands together trying to get them working. His fingertips felt like ice. Though he loved the winter scenery, he really did hate the cold. Always needing to bundle up in layers of coats, and sweaters, and wearing multiple layers of socks under heavy boots, and hats, and gloves, and ear muffs, was such a hassle. And he still hadn't invented a way to keep his face warm without looking like he was either going skiing or robbing a bank…

Still, he was cold and the lack of sleeves wasn't help either.

"_Do I really have to put a tux on? It's hard to believe that a rebel group is meeting in secret at a fancy restaurant." Alfred complained as he finished buttoning up his tuxedo._

"_Yes." Ivan said finishing his own dressing._

_Alfred turned to the silver haired man who was waiting behind him. Ivan wore a light violet vest, which matched his eyes perfectly, over a white button up long sleeved shirt. His scarf was neatly tucked underneath his vest, creating a blooming appearance that resembled a lion's mane. His shirt and vest were fitted, showing off his chiseled features. You could just see the outline of his muscled arms from white fabric clinging to his skin, while the violet silk vest elongated his already tall figure. His sleek, ironed, black trousers matched the shining black shoes on his feet. His chest was puffed out and his broad shoulders stood tall and firm. With his hair combed back and sophisticated expression on his face Ivan looked so confident, so brave, so unquestionable._

_It was all an act though. Ivan knew he was on duty. He knew that he would need to kill that day. This was merely a uniform, a disguise used to enter the battle field in secret. He hated these clothes, not because of the style or the fit or anything trivial like that. No it was because of the –_

"_Sleeves."_

_Alfred raised his right eyebrow in question, "What do you mean 'sleeves'?"_

_Ivan looked at Alfred's elegantly dressed physique. "You can't wear that."_

"_Why?" Alfred asked, feeling a bit frustrated. It was a perfectly normal tuxedo. Black with a white button shirt, a penguin vest thing, shoes, pants, bowtie, what was wrong with it? He didn't want to change just because Ivan didn't prefer his fashion sense! Plus, it took him forever to get that thing on._

_Ivan let out a slightly broken sigh, "The sleeves are too long."_

_Alfred immediately brought his wrists to his face and looked intently at his sleeves, trying to find this invisible flaw. He stood there for a while staring at his sleeves, inspecting them for whatever Ivan was talking about. But he couldn't find anything wrong with them. They were the perfect length, if not a tad too short._

"_No, they're fine." Alfred said after a few moments of deliberation, in case he had missed something._

_A wave of guilt washed over Ivan's eyes, and Alfred saw it. "If your life depends on your government seeing the tag they gave you which ensures your life, you want to make sure that they see it. All sleeves in Russia are short."_

_It was then when Alfred saw. Ivan's sleeves were made to look like they were folded up, stopping at the elbow. It would be suspicious if everyone was wearing sleeves too short, during winter. So the fashion industry made folded sleeves the next fashion… right next to violet braclets._

Alfred rubbed his hands together keeping them warm. He felt the strange-fitting bracelet on his wrist and winced. He could only imagine the incredible pain Ivan must be going through. His people dying every day by his own unwilling hand… he was hurting so much inside.

Alfred looked up and to his right to see Ivan's stern face and controlled exterior. He looked past those long, silver bangs to see Ivan's swirling eyes. Alfred was entranced by them. Ever since Ivan had his confessing revelation, and the barriers that had kept him from his emotion had broken down, his eyes came to life. Those cold distant eyes everyone saw were fake. The truth wrapped underneath that fooling façade was this selfless, compassionate, loving man. Who's eyes dripped with lonely despair.

He wanted to fix it. Alfred wanted to change though sad eyes. They were too beautiful to be sad. Those swirling melancholy colors glowing, and spinning inside those violet orbs needed to be set free. It was if his emotions were dancing inside his eyes. Dancing a tragic, yet somehow beautiful ballet, one fated to have no happy ending. Alfred didn't realize he was crying until a slow, cold tear rolled down from his sky blue eyes, past his chin, and then dripping onto his chilled hands.

Alfred reached up and touched his now wet face. Yes, he definitely was crying. He chuckled to himself. He was crying only after a few days of taking on this burden Ivan had been carrying for years… if not for his entire life. Alfred shook his head awake, sucked up his tears, and puffed out his chest. He was Alfred. F. Jones! He was here to save Ivan and his people! And damn it he was going to do it!

Before Alfred knew it Ivan took a sharp turn around the corner and they stood in front of the grand restaurant, halting Al's train of thought. Ivan looked to him with a controlled face and keen eyes asking, "Are you ready?" Alfred nodded once and they walked in.

…

The warm air inside the Seryy Volk was a dramatic contrast to the freezing winter outside. Alfred let out a short breath of air and removed his long black coat to reveal the cloths Ivan had lent to him. A soft sky blue colored shirt shaped Alfred's torso gentlemanly. Around his neck was a crimson red satin bowtie that Alfred had insisted upon wearing because quote, "Bowties are cool." For trousers, he wore a bold pair of stunning white pants. Though it was a daring fashion choice Alfred fancied it, and he could be very stubborn when he wants to be.

Ivan too removed him black sleeveless trench coat and slung it over his left arm. The walls surrounding them were colored a deep, royal red. Golden etchings lined the walls and the light was a dim orange that well suited decorated windows with their red and golden curtain tapestries.

They were seated at a small table at the back of the restaurant. It was a lucky seating arrangement because Ivan was able to keep an eye on the entire room and Alfred sat opposite the kitchen, able to peer in when necessary. Ivan sat down in the plush, white chair and adjusted his scarf. His shoulders were broad. His head was held high and proud. His chest, toned and muscular, was puffed out. He really did look like a proud lion.

Except his eyes.

His eyes were so sad. The lingering emotions of guilt, pain, and agony ebbed and waved in those kind, thoughtful eyes. The darkness in his once bright and clear violet eyes, swirled and clouded them with dark guilt-ridden emotions. Alfred knew that having to come here and kill more of his people, though doing it to save them, hurt Ivan terribly. He put up a wall to distance himself from his pain of guilt so he could be able to do the things he needed to do. But that meant blocking away all emotions, not just the pain, guilt, and fear but, happiness, joy, love as well. That also distanced him from the rest of the world outside. He hid from both himself and the world. The wall was gone now, and Alfred knew that. With no mask to put on Alfred could see through Ivan's disguise.

After Ivan had confessed to him, Alfred had realized something. Though Ivan had always put other people first, he was all alone. In every attempt to save the people he loved, he somehow pushed them away. It was such a cruel fate, such an unfair and sad fate he'd been given.

But, the clear, hopeful, _happy,_ eyes Alfred saw at the camp were so beautiful.

The _innocent _hope that shone from those beacons of the soul was so incredibly, stunningly, beautiful.

Alfred looked into those bright violet eyes, swirling dark emotions clouding the hope and happiness that he saw that one time. But once was enough; he wanted to see them again, those happy uplifting eyes.

"May I take your order?" The waitress dressed in a frilly dress asked.

"Borshct." Ivan said without hesitation.

"Come on Russian accent don't fail me now!" Alfred prayed.

"Pirozhki." He said trying not to sweat out of fear.

The waitress nodded and walked down the faintly lit hall. Alfred let out a short sigh of relief. At least his accent wasn't noticeable. He was sure that was going to be the end of him!

Alfred grinned, "Well," He said in code. "At least my accent isn't noticeable."

Ivan looked at Alfred and sighed, "Yes." He said quietly. His face was frowned deep in thought as he drummed his fingers against the table. The darkness was still there.

It was obvious to Alfred that he was distracted. He didn't know just what with. He looked into Ivan's eyes again and saw the same dark swirling emotions.

"I know we're on a mission," Alfred thought, "But I have to cheer Ivan up… He must be thinking about the rebel group. Maybe I can distract him for a little bit. We are supposed to be blending in right?"

"So!" Alfred said in his cheeriest voice while wearing his brightest grin, "It's a shame they don't have any burgers, huh?"

Ivan's head was in his hand, deep in thought. "I thought you were a vegetarian." he said off-handedly.

Alfred was surprised at that. No one knew he was a vegetarian. It would ruin his street cred… "How did you know?" He asked.

"It's pretty obvious. You never order meat. The only burgers I've seen you eat are ones you've brought yourself. And even though you go to barbeques you never eat any of the meat there."

"Damn!" Alfred said surprise eminent in this voice, "You're observant."

"Also," Ivan said with more interest, "Why do you think that makes you any less admirable?"

"Okay how did you deduce that one, Sherlock?"

Alfred's words pulled at Ivan's frown to form a small smile, "Why would you hide that fact… Watson?"

Al laughed, "Well, you know I'm kinda known for being a meat eater. So…" He shrugged as he trailed off his sentence.

"Well," Ivan said admittedly, "I don't think any less of you. In fact I find it quite admirable. It takes a lot to sacrifice your own pleasure for the wellbeing of another…" He became quiet and sighed. His eyes became clouded and his thoughts were consumed.

Alfred frowned his brows. He knew that Ivan was thinking about his people again. He had done so much for them, taken so much burden onto himself, hurt himself so deeply to save them. Alfred just wanted to make him smile, even if it was just for a little bit. It was too much for one man. Having to sacrifice yourself and your people to save them was beyond Alfred's comprehension. The pain he had to bear alone for his entire life must have hurt beyond imagination.

The waitress came over with their food and placed it on the table.

"You know," Al said before eating his food, "I always try to make a picture with how the food is placed."

"You mean like clouds?" Ivan asked, surprised at the child-like imagination.

"Yeah!" Alfred stroked his chin in thought. "I think it looks like… a bird."

"Really?" Ivan asked.

"Yeah, here look!" Alfred turned his plate to face Ivan, "See? Here's the head with the eye. Here's the wing and that's the feet." He said pointing to various sections of food.

"Hmm," Ivan said, frowning his brows in curiosity, "Mine looks like… a bear tap dancing on an airplane."

"What?! No way! Let me see!" Alfred exclaimed in disbelief. He examined the plate of nourishment. "That doesn't look like tap dancing! That's obviously swing dance!"

"Obviously?" Ivan asked, raising a brow in question.

"Obviously." Alfred said, nodding his head confirmation.

The night went on like this with silly conversations, Alfred saying things that got Ivan to giggle, and after some time Alfred began to really feel happy. He was getting Ivan to laugh and smile. The food was delicious. They each had endless stories which ended in smiles. After some time the lingering emotions in Ivan's eyes had left and they had become clear and bright again. He really didn't want it to come to an end.

But, it had to. There was a job to be done. Though no one wanted it, this day had to end in death.

They had both finished their food. "That was delicious." Ivan said hesitantly.

Though his voice was steady, Ivan's hands were shaking. "I believe it's time I tell my complements to the chef."

That was the code. He was going into the back to find the rebels and then… kill them. Ivan's happy, bright eyes were gone, replaced by dread filled fear and pain.

He looked so _alone_.

"Ivan? I want to tell you something." Alfred's voice became quiet. "You know," he said, "I had to fight alone too… once."

Ivan looked on in surprise. He hadn't expected him to say that.

"When I was young I there was a 'part of me' that I hated." Alfred looked down, his own eyes swirling with dark emotions and memories. "I was all alone, to fight against myself."

_It was raining that day, when everything changed. Mud and blood clogged my eyes. The rain impaired my vision. But I still saw him. In the muddy puddle below me, my reflection that smirking cursing face glared at me. It was me… but it wasn't me._

_I tried to move my feet but they refused to budge. The pain it caused to surge through my body was immense. It felt like lightning replaced every nerve in my body. Every time I moved my breath would hitch out from the burning in my heart and lungs. My eyes widened from the shock and I would grind my teeth to distract me. Somehow, I was able to stand and though every instinct in my body was telling me not to move I had to. I heard gun shots behind me. I couldn't remember why. _

_I shook violently as I stumbled in the rain trying to escape from whatever I was running from. I heard screams and cries of pain. They weren't mine but I felt them. I felt the whips striking my back as overwhelming fear and dread washed over me. My children were being ripped away from me. My home was taken. My freedom was taken. My name was taken. My family was taken. I couldn't remember who I was. _

_My head was collapsing in on itself. The throbbing ache took over my senses. The trees and rain all around me were spinning. My guts felt like they were tied into writhing knot of agony. I clenched my stomach trying to ease the pain. It did no good. The raw agony it made was too much. I tripped and fell on to my knees. I vomited on the blooded muddy ground beneath me as rain crashed down onto me. _

_It was so loud. I couldn't hear myself cough up the copious amount of blood, or the gasping of my breath, trying to breathe. My lungs were filled with sand. Tears were replaced with blood. The rain crashing down onto the Earth isolated me. I couldn't hear. But I could hear them._

_The wails of agony and woe, sorrow and fear, hate and regret, I heard them cry._

_I looked up. Above me was the moon, full, pale, and beaming. Its light shone down on me, cradling me. Everything went quiet. I felt the rain drip down my face. It was softer than before. It washed away the tears. My body felt numb; I didn't feel the pain, but I couldn't feel anything. For a moment, as I looked up at the moon's pale white face while the world was crashing down around me, I felt hollow. I thought my soul had left me. I thought I was going to die. _

_I cried… I still remember what was whispered on that night._

"_I don't want to die." It was then when I heard the howling of a wolf. It was the only thing I could hear, the cry of a lone, understanding wolf. Somehow it knew my pain. I could hear it in its cry. And then everything went black. _

_My body fell backwards onto the sopping bloody ground. I don't know how long I laid there. I just remember fading in and out of consciousness. The president looked at me. He looked so worried. I must have been lying in a bed, but I couldn't feel the sheets beneath me or the blankets enwrapping me. I was so confused, so disoriented. I didn't know what was going on. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't remember who I was._

"_Alfred?" The president said to me. He was sitting on a chair next to the bed I laid on. "You're awake!"_

_President Lincoln. I wanted to talk to him but my body wouldn't let me. So all I could do was lay there and listen to him. "You've been asleep for so long! The South has seceded. War has broken out." My head was fuzzy. I'm sorry to say that I was slipping out of consciousness. But before I was plunged back into that never ending darkness I heard him say, "You have to fight!"_

_And so I did. The war lasted four years. For four years I had to fight to even have control of my body. _

_I remember the first time it happened, when my body was controlled by someone else. I was so confused. I had been fading in and out of consciousness unable to move, but now I was but even worse it wasn't me who was moving. It was him. The Confederate States of America. _

_I remember seeing him get up in the middle of the night. I saw him move my body through my own eyes. The ceiling was blurred when he opened my eyes. He turned my head to the right and put on my pair of glasses. He sat up in bed and smirked._

_How strange would it be to see your body move against your will? How unnerving to see your hands in front of your own face without you moving them? How terrifying to speak words you didn't intend? The answer is a lot…_

Alfred let out a quivering sigh as if it was difficult to talk, and continued quietly.

_I had to fight. I had to fight myself. I had to fight just to control my body. I had to fight for my people. And I had to do it all alone._

_It was so hard. It was so scary. I was all alone, trapped in my own mind, fighting my way out. I felt the pain of every person who died. I was fighting against myself, knowing that if I lost then I would become something horrible. all alone was the most difficult and… painful thing I've ever had to do._

Alfred looked down, his voice quiet and stale, "I never told that to anyone." The memories Alfred had kept locked away had come out and with it the same fear, pain, and dismay he felt all though years ago. "It was terrifying. It was painful. It was so _lonely_. It was the most horrible thing I ever had to go through… But I was able to get out."

"I had people fighting for me. I had a leader who cared for me. But, you…" Alfred's voice was now nothing but sympathetic, and guilt filled whispers, "You had nothing. You had no one to fight for you. And yet… you survived. You kept fighting, even though you were long past your limit. You hurt yourself for so long just to bring others happiness, neglecting your own."

Alfred was crying, though it wasn't noticeable. His words were chocked and his face was wet. But he kept himself stable, for Ivan. "You're so much stronger than me. You're so much braver than me. I could have never done what you did, especially alone. But," Alfred said pushing his chair back and standing.

He looked up, though his smiling face was lined with tears, bright, everlasting hope shone from his sky blue eyes. "You're not alone anymore! I'm here to help you!"

Alfred wiped his tears away and smiled contently, "Now," he said with a pleased grin, "I believe I have to give my complements to the chef." And with that Alfred stood tall, walked to the kitchen door, and smiled at Ivan one last time before he went in.

"Alfred…" Ivan was aw struck. He couldn't believe what Alfred had just said, what he had done, and what he was doing for him. A quiet thankful tear strolled down Ivan's right cheek as Ivan whispered, "Thank you."

_To be continued…_

A lot of flash backs in this one... that and eyes. For some reason I saw Ivan having these highly emotional _moving_ eyes. Oh, and another Doctor Who reference. Bowties go with every outfit. …Get it Al's wearing red, white, blue and Ivan's wearing white, black, and violet? Hehehe, I'm so not smart. Also advance in romantic relationship for the win!

Well, any way that's chapter 8! We're half way done with the story guys! And guess what! I planned out the rest of the story! Yay for knowing what you're doing! Also, I'm pretty happy with the way this chapter turned out! Me being satisfied with a chapter? Heaven forbid!

Also I love how the tree poem thing turned out too! The whole point of that analogy is to say the most beautiful light comes from the darkest of black. A.K.A Amazing good can come from terrible bad.

Oh, and if anyone was wondering Al packed a tuxedo in case of a 'James Bond moment'. That what he said, not me!

Pirozhki = Russian dish. Once again yay to the internet for making my life easy.

Borshct = More food from Russia.

Seryy Volk = Grey Wolf

Also sorry for the terrible Russian. Blame Google translate, not me. lol


	9. Seeking Sunflowers In Lost Woods

I'm sorry it took so long but, here's chapter nine! So many things happened at once! So, this chapter may not be as polished as the others, so it might be a bit cheesy but I thought that you guys have been waiting long enough! So here you go!

This is not real; this is not true; this is not a political statement; I have nothing against Russia or its people; any similarities to real people, living or otherwise, are completely coincidental and this is in no way meant to be offensive.

Happy reading.

Pure Violet Is Killing Me

Chapter 9

Seeking Sunflowers In Lost Woods

…

It was a dud. There was no rebel group. No one died.

Ivan was so relieved.

They were back at 'The Camp', as Alfred called it. Ivan was sitting outside looking out into the clearing in thought. He had decided that keeping a constant eye on Alfred was the safest course of action. Though he had gained his trust, Ivan was always vigilant; his fear would not let him relax. It was the night after the investigation. Alfred had slept through the entire day and was still sleeping even though the sun had long since set. Ivan was taking this time of peace to relish in this place of his childhood.

The grass and trees surrounding him seemed to have barely changed since he was a child. Though the trees and flowers of his childhood had long since passed the emotion that pulsed through his heart was the same. The same calm washed over his mind. That same sense of safety cradled his body like a warm blanket. And as he looked into the clearing, remembering those treasured times of peace and tranquility, he began to think.

He thought, his mind calm and clear, about what had happened the night before. He thought of what Alfred had told him. _Exactly _what Alfred had told him.

He had told him something that troubled and confused him. He told him a story from his heart, one of pain and loss, of emotion and weakness. But, why?

That story that Alfred had told him was something of which he trusted with no one else. He told him his long hidden past, which he wished to forget. He had told him of a fight he had to face alone and scared. He told him of a time when he was pained, weak, and fragile. He told him of his struggle, guilt, and hate. He told of his most dire moment of need where he was helpless and in pain. Alfred had confined in him his most vulnerable moment. He had showed him that he too was _human_, that he hurt and feared just as Ivan did.

He had broken down his own wall, which protected him from his emotions, just for Ivan. He had shown his broken and wounded past, opened up to him, and given his trust to him just so… Ivan wouldn't feel so _alone_.

But, why? Why would he tell him something so personal, something that was meant to be hidden away, never to be remembered?

What could he mean to trust him with something so important? How could he be so trusting? He said that he hadn't told anyone of that time. It must have meant so much to him. So why? Why would he tell Ivan his most well kept secret? Was it to comfort him? To relieve him of his guilt? To show him that he was no longer alone? Or was there another meaning to it?

Ivan just felt so confused.

"Why would he do that just to comfort me?" Ivan thought, his head lying in his hands. Why would he confess something so personal just to console him? He tried to think it through.

At the beginning Alfred was his enemy, a threat to his people. He came to his country determined to go to war. But after infiltrating the country, Alfred had learned the truth of the 'Pure Violet Russian' plan. He learned that Ivan's people were dying and it was a plot devised by Ivan's government and that Ivan was trying to stop them. Then he decided to help Ivan stop his government, whatever the cost. After he learned all this he confronted Ivan and asked if he could help. Ivan couldn't believe that Alfred understood the full extent of the situation, of the lies, of the pain, or of his life.

Ivan couldn't believe that Alfred knew all this… and still wanted to help him.

After everything he had done, after the all the wars, the deaths of innocent people, the horrific incidents that occurred because of him, the unrivaled hate that was inspired because of him, Alfred would still accept him?

Not only accept him but… _forgive_ him?

"Why?" He thought, "How? How could Alfred forgive me when…" _I cannot forgive myself?_

Ivan couldn't forgive himself. He couldn't, not after all he had done, after all that had happened. How could he when he blamed it all on himself? No. He couldn't. He must atone for his sins by punishing himself, with sadness, guilt, regret, and pain.

But, Alfred never blamed him. He only helped him. He accepted him and _forgave_ him for what he had done and he was…_ kind_ to him.

As Ivan realized these things a warmth began to envelop his heart, from the inside out, like a light. Starting from his core and traveling through his entire body this _happiness_ grew. He brought his hand to his chest. This feeling, he hadn't felt this in feeling in so long. It was a feeling happiness, and safety, and completion, of love.

This was the feeling he had when he was in this clearing with that wolf. His _friend_.

"Is Alfred my… friend?" Ivan asked, lifting his head and looking to the night sky above him. Could it be true? Could he really be feeling this happiness that he shared with that wolf all that time ago? He had a friend?

As the stars twinkled and shimmered around the beautiful waning moon in the night sky Ivan gave in to this feeling of happiness. And he sat there, entranced, staring up at the moon for a long time. But his peace was interrupted by an abrupt rustling of the bushes.

Ivan jumped to his feet. That couldn't be Alfred, he was sleeping. The enemy?!

"Alfred!" He immediately screamed to awake his ally, "Get out here now!" He heard rustling from both inside the tent and the bushes. But it was the creature from the forest that reviled itself first.

A grey wolf with the most stunning sky blue eyes stepped out from the depths of the woods. As she emerged from the shadows of the trees and in to the clearing where the moon's light shone like a beacon she seemed to glow. Her fur glimmered in the moon's light, shining an almost white light. Her eyes were bright and blue as the summer day's sky. And on her back leg a scar lay.

Ivan gasped.

It was her. It was the wolf. The same wolf that loved and cared for Ivan all that time ago. She came out of the woods in the same place, with the same scent, and she looked just as she did when Ivan last saw her, when she left him to find her family.

She taught him how to love, to care, to laugh and smile. She… was here, alive, after all these years? He couldn't believe it, his friend, his first friend, his _only_ friend, had returned. She looked straight into Ivan's eyes and he knew it _was_ her.

She nodded her head, understanding of Ivan's confusion, her gaze calming his racing mind. She moved her head and pointed her snout to the woods behind her then looking back into Ivan's eyes. Several moments of silence past, letting the gears in Ivan's head turn, and when the wolf believed Ivan understood she dashed back into the forest, beckoning him to come.

"No!" Ivan screamed just as he did as a child, reaching out his hand as he saw her leaving him once again, "Don't go!"

Ivan immediately took off after the wolf; he could not lose her again! And just as his feet left the ground running Alfred stepped out of the tent, gun in hand, "What's going on?!" He shouted looking for answers, but all he saw was Ivan's back running into the dark forest.

Growling, he gripped his gun and chased after Ivan. Of course something had to happen now…

…

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Alfred asked, running his hands through his hair, "I can't believe I told him that!"

He paced up and down the hide out, furious with himself that he told Ivan of his secret.

"Damn it! You idiot, why did you trust him?" Alfred shouted, hitting his forehead with his fist trying to knock some sense into himself, "You've never trusted this with anyone and now you give it out like damn candy?! What's wrong with me?"

Frustrated and yelling, Alfred was glad he made the tent sound proof. "That was the most personal moment of my life; I didn't even tell Arthur or Mattie about it. So why did I tell Ivan?" He didn't understand. Why was he so compelled to tell Ivan? Why was he able to confess it so easily? And why was it that when he told him and saw his eyes light up with hope, he felt so good inside?

"Because I couldn't stand to see him so sad." He said, answering his question. He sat down on a chair and sighed. "I don't know what came over me. But the way Ivan looked so _alone_. He looked so scared, so helpless. I just had to do something."

A part of Alfred was mad at himself for telling Ivan what he did, but another part of him knew that he had to do that. He couldn't just let this person in front of him be in so much pain. No matter who it was Alfred always held the greatest sympathy. If he was a child crying, he would cry as well. He took on their emotions, as to lift their burden. If someone was beside him, in pain or in sadness, he would feel that pain as well. That's why he can't stand to watch someone in need without helping them, because it hurt too much.

He sighed, "I've been allies with him for a just a few days and I'm telling him my deepest, darkest secrets?" He was confused, frustrated, and didn't know what to do. "When I looked into his eyes he looked like a frightened, guilt ridden, and scared child. He looked like me way back then, powerless, afraid, for both myself and my people… But I've never seen him like that before, kind or caring, afraid or helpless. He has always been so distant. So cold."

He looked to the ceiling and sighed, "He's always been so cold. But now I've seen this part of him that is so warm. In his eyes I saw it, his true nature. Kindness and empathy, love and compassion hides behind that stern and cold exterior."

"He really does care for his people. He'll do anything to save them. Sacrificing himself in the process doesn't matter to him. He's like a child holding a dying flower in their hands, desperately wanting to bring life back to that once bright a colorful being but unable to..."

Conflicting and complicated emotions swarmed inside Alfred's heart. He didn't understand these feelings. He didn't understand Ivan. And ever so faintly in the back of his mind something repeated over, and over again. It was so quiet and so loud, it was clear as day and as elusive as night, it was so hard to understand but at the same time so easy. In the impossible quiet that seemed to overcome him as he tried to single out this sentence in his mind, screaming out to him to understand, he heard it.

_I want to help him… I want to help him because I love him_.

"Alfred! Get out here now!"

…

"What's going on?!" He shouted, chasing after Ivan.

But it seemed that his words fell on deaf ears. Ivan just kept running at top speed, like his life depended on it. Within seconds he was covering massive ground, leaping over rocks and batting away branches with such urgency Alfred couldn't believe it. It was extremely difficult to keep up with him. He just kept running! Alfred panted as he tried to keep up with Ivan, only looking back once to see how far they had traveled into the forest. And all he saw were trees and bushes, getting darker and darker as they ran.

He looked back to Ivan. "What's wrong?!" He shouted again. But again Ivan did not answer. Alfred caught a glimpse of Ivan's face and was shocked to see the desperation sprawled across it.

"Ivan! What's wrong?" He cried between pants. The farther they ran the darker the woods became. "Ivan!" He screamed, trying to getting him to stop. "Ivan!"

Running and running. The running, it didn't stop. It was as if he was running through a tunnel that never ended. As soon as he saw the light at the end it would pull away, escaping from his grasp. He couldn't lose her again, not his friend. It was just like when he met her. He ran. He ran for lost friend. He ran for his lost life. He ran for his lost happiness. Desperately he ran and ran and ran. Rocks and branches scratched at his body, though he didn't feel it. His body was numb, like his mind, like his heart. It just kept getting darker and darker. He didn't feel the blood trickle down his face. He didn't see the light of the moon fading as he ran deeper into the forest. He felt like he had been running for so long.

But, then he heard something, this quiet call to him. But, who was it? He stopped, turned around and looked.

"Ivan!" Alfred said again, finally having caught up with him. His hand on his shoulder, "What's going on? Who are you chasing?"

Ivan looked from Alfred to the forest around him. The wolf was nowhere to be seen. "N-nothing. It was nothing."

"Nothing? That was not nothing! You've been running like a maniac for the past 20 minutes! What happened?"

"I… thought I saw someone. But, I was wrong." Ivan looked down in defeat and confusion. He knew he saw her. But he could not tell Alfred, he couldn't.

Alfred saw the sadness on Ivan's face and decided to let it go. "Where are we anyway?" He asked looking around. They had been running so aimlessly and frantically, that they had lost all sense of direction. Eerily dark trees surrounded them.

"I'm-I'm not sure." Ivan said still shaken from coming out of his trance.

"Well, we better find our way back…"

…

Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. One hour. They kept walking, getting nowhere. Were they really on the right path, were they walking deeper into the woods, or where they just going in circles? What was happening? Where they going to ever get out? These and many other questions pestered their minds wearing their patience thin.

Eventually Ivan and Alfred found themselves asking the same questions they had been asking themselves. _Why did he tell him that? Why was he so kind? Where they friends?_

Finally it was too much to bear and Ivan gave into the dying urge.

"Why did you tell me that?" Ivan asked as the trees of the woods thinned as they walked further into the undiscovered trail, "Why would you trust me, of all people, with something you haven't entrusted to anyone?"

Alfred sighed and kicked a rock as the two walked down this untrue path. As usual Ivan was standing tall and firm, his shoulders broad with his chin held up and his eyes focused forward. His hands were folded behind his back and his stride swift and precise. He had been walking like that for the past hour. Alfred could easily see that Ivan was worried.

And just about the opposite of Ivan Alfred walked next to him. His hands in his pockets and his shoulders slouched. Unlike him when Alfred was questioning and in doubt he acted more like he had been defeated, unwilling and stubborn. Until he had gotten his way Alfred acted so childishly, pouting and sulking. And even though he was being somewhat stubborn, he wasn't acting like his normal childish self.

He felt sad and lost… He didn't know why he trusted Ivan so much. He didn't understand the yearning to make Ivan smile and to make his soft eyes shine with laughter and joy.

With his head tilted down facing the dirt below him Alfred said with some reluctance, "Because I didn't want you to feel so alone…" He sighed and looked up, not to Ivan but straight forward. Up ahead were more woods, dark bushes and braches only partially lighted; he couldn't see what was ahead of him for more than ten feet. The dense trees blocked out the moon's light only letting small rays of its light shine through the emerald green leafs.

"You just looked so sad… I didn't want to see you like that."

Ivan's eyes fell. His swift stride weakened and his stance softened. "Why?" He asked.

"I don't know." He answered half honestly. "You're my friend now, and I don't want my friends to be unhappy."

"I'm not your friend." Ivan told him. He did not say it as a rejection or accusation. He said it as a fact, like Ivan was telling Alfred something he already knew.

Though this was normally something that would affect Alfred, his solemn and calculating demeanor did not faze. He was too wrapped up in trying to understand this entire thing to emotionally comprehend what Ivan had just told him.

"Oh?" Alfred asked, sounding nonchalant. "We're just allies then?"

"Yes…" Ivan said picking his chin up again and moving his gaze forward, moving his gaze to avoid what was right beside him. "We are allies of war." It didn't sound like he was trying to convince Alfred, he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

There was a long string of silence.

"Really?" Alfred said, "Because I didn't come here as a nation. I told you that."

Out of the corner of his eyes Ivan's gaze moved towards Alfred for a brief moment before turning back to the path in front of him. He could not let Alfred distract him from his mission… He couldn't let his emotions disturb his concentration. He couldn't afford that luxury. He didn't have the time to think. He didn't have the time to feel.

"I came here as Alfred. That's why I asked for you to call me by that name, because it is _my_ name. I'm… I really am your friend."

"No."

Alfred looked up. No? What did he mean 'no'? Ivan's face was stern and cold, his teeth clenched and determined to stay tight, but his eyes - his eyes were on the verge of tears.

He stopped. He stopped moving, stopped caring, stopped trying. His hands were clenched, his arms by his sides and his head facing the ground. His body began to shake. "I-I can't do this…" Ivan said, his voice quivering.

Ivan's body shook as he stood in the depths of these dark, lost woods. "I can't do this…" He repeated, his voice nothing but whisper.

It was as if a flip was switched. Alfred looked to Ivan's figure. It was covered in darkness. The light filtering in through the trees seemed to dim, and Alfred could almost feel the despair dripping off of Ivan's body. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't do it. I can't save my people." Ivan's eyes widened in terror and he came to this realization. "I can't do it…"

"What?" Alfred asked. Ivan was unraveling, right in front of his eyes. Hope was fading from his eyes, as despair and misery replaced it.

"I've done everything I could, but my people are still dying. I can't do it." He felt his heart breaking. He felt hope evaporating. "It's impossible." Regret, anguish, and pain had enveloped his thoughts, his heart, his soul. Ivan was giving up.

"What?" Alfred asked shocked, his entire being shaken out of his lethargic state into one of fear. Ivan couldn't be giving up! After everything he's done, after all his sacrifices, after all that has happened, he can't just give into hopelessness!

"Ivan, what are you saying?" Alfred asked, extending his arms in a gesture of kinship. He couldn't let Ivan fall apart in front of his eyes like this. He was breaking right in front of him.

Like a doll the strings that held him together, whether they be true or false, were being ripped apart, leaving him nothing but fragile scraps of fabric easily broken and scattered. He knew it was impossible, but out of sheer will Ivan was able to keep himself going, for he knew if he stopped – if he gave in the sadness – that surely he would die, and his people along with him. What little hope he had left in his heart had faded and Ivan was giving in to despair.

He fought a fruitless battle, one with no help or hope in sight. Let he fought on, injuring, damaging, and scarring himself in the name of his people. If he didn't then who would? It all relied on him. So he had to keep fighting, keep living, for the chance of happiness. Love and joy had evaded him his entire life. But if there was even the slightest glimpse of hope Ivan would fight for it. To redeem himself. To prove himself. To fulfill himself. To _love_ himself. So he fought.

He fought, and killed, and died, and suffered, and bled, and wept, until there was nothing left. The person called Ivan Braginski and long been lost, and forgotten. All that was left was his shell broken, scared, and desperately scrambling to build and fix a broken and worthless wall.

And then kept fighting. He couldn't give up. He couldn't die like this. …But, he couldn't live like this either.

"What am I saying?" Ivan repeated turning, rage and disgust painting his face, "I'm saying that I've failed! I've done everything I could but I'm not good enough! I was supposed to protect them! I was supposed to care for them! But, I destroyed it all! I ripped families apart and dirtied beautiful souls! It's all my fault! The death of thousands! The misery and torment of an entire nation! It all falls on my shoulders! And I have failed!"

Rage, guilt, fear, disgust, and shame filled him. Ivan's face was red as he screamed at him. "Just what the hell do you mean you've failed!?" Alfred gritted his teeth screaming back at him with the same rage. How dare he? How dare he give up after all this time!

"My people are dead! I was the only one who could save them, but I can't!"

"_Yes, you fucking can!_"And with that Alfred punched Ivan square in the jaw. "I'm here to help you! We can do this together!"

Ivan stumbled back from the sheer force of Alfred's blow and immediate return of rage.

"Get out…" His words quieted by unmatched rage. He cradled his face with his hand, in suppressed madness. "GET OUT OF MY COUNTRY! LEAVE THIS PLACE YOU LYING BASTARD!"

"…What?" Alfred looked up to him, fury consumed him.

"Get out! Just get the hell out! I don't want you here! It's a lie! It's all a lie!" Ivan's head felt like it was exploding. All the people who've died swarmed his mind like ravenous crows stabbing at his head, over and over again until it drove him to the brink of insanity. "Just make it stop!" He screamed as he clutched his head, trying to suppress the unbearable pain he was burdened with since a child.

"Just who the HELL do you think you are?" Alfred barked stepping closer to Ivan shaking figure, his righteous fury raging through him. He grabbed the scruff of Ivan's shirt and slammed him up against the nearest tree. Though anger pumped through Alfred's vein's, driving him to these acts of rage, Ivan just let Alfred toss him around like a ragdoll. His head fallen to the ground. He wouldn't even look him in the eye.

"…There is always hope! I've sacrificed everything to be here, helping you, and now you're telling me to that you're giving it up? You're going to let all the people who have died go with no reward for their sacrifice? You're just going to let their children live in this world? You're just going to destroy _yourself _trying to do what's right and when help finally come you give up? _FUCK YOU! _There are people who care about you! There are people who need you, not to sacrifice yourself for! To _live_ for! And what are you doing? What are you doing just standing here, letting me hold you against your will! Fight back! Hit me! Hit me right in the face and_ tell_ me it's not true! I know you can! So don't give up! You-" Alfred's regret filled outburst was cut short by Ivan grabbing his arm. It wasn't forceful or hate filled. It wasn't to rip away and divide. It was a connection. It was plea. And that's when Ivan faced him.

And Alfred saw his eyes.

"Why?" He chocked, tears streaming down his face. His eyes were no longer clouded with false anger and misdirected hate. They were soft, pale, one of an innocent child. "Why do you give me this false hope?"

As Alfred watched the clear, fear filled tears trickle down Ivan's soft pale face, everything became quiet. Their shouts became whispers, and their rage only simple confusion. Ivan looked so lost, so scared. The walls and barriers he had constructed had been stripped away, now only leaving the frightened and hurt child he truly was.

"I was going to give up." He admitted, "I knew that I had failed. I knew that everything was lost. I was just about to stop it all but…" Ivan stopped. He couldn't say anymore, but he had to. So he forced himself, like he had so many times before.

"But then you showed up. You said to me things I never thought would be said. You said you'd help be." He just shook his head slightly, experiencing the disbelief all over again. "You gave me hope were there was none. No one, in my entire life except for one, has showed me that kindness. It confuses me so much."

"Why?" He said finally looking Alfred in his eyes, "Why do you give me hope?"

From Ivan's bright violet eyes poured a never ending stream of tears. They were the embodiment of every fear, every person who had died, every terrifying moment he had to spend alone was coming out all at once. His soft and pale face soaked in this sadness.

"I have failed. And my people have died. Yet you give me hope, and even …happiness." At this point hopelessness and helplessness had consumed him. His legs gave out on him and he sunk down to where he was on his knees. He covered his face with his hands in shame and wept.

He wept for his people's pain. He wept for what had been lost. He wept for the happiness that had been stolen. He wept for all the mistakes he wished he undo. He wept in sorrow and in regret. He wept so that his tears, which embodied his agony in sadness, might serve as atonement for all who he had wronged.

"Ivan…" Alfred took his hand away from Ivan's shoulder and knelt down to his sobbing figure. He placed his hands on top of Ivan's, which hid his face. And for a long while he sat there in silence, letting Ivan cry to him, for he knew he needed to.

Alfred closed his eyes and brought his forehead to Ivan's. It was sign of friendship, of equality, and kindness. He didn't think. The words just came.

"You have _not_ failed. So far from it." He brushed away a tear, drying Ivan's face, "You have fought for what you know is right no matter the consequence. You have saved so many lives. And so many people love you." His words were soft and bright, and somehow a smile tugged at his face.

"There is always hope, no matter what. Even in the darkest of dark there is always a light. It might be hard to find, and sometimes it takes a while to form, but it will always be there to light your way."

Alfred took his forehead away from Ivan's and looked into his eyes. Determination and pride flowed through Alfred's body, pouring out from his eyes and into Ivan's, "I am here and you are alive. I will fight alongside you, either until your people are safe and you are happy, or I die trying."

Disbelief and fear still ebbed and flowed inside Ivan's mind, "But, why?" He asked shaking his head away from Alfred's gaze, "Why do you believe? Why do you give me this hope? Why do you care? How could you forgive me? I have done so much wrong. There is no hope left in this world for me…"

"Ivan." Alfred said taking hold of Ivan's cheek and turning his head to face his, "It's time that you forgive yourself. There is nothing more to atone for; there never has been. You are truly a kind and beautiful person. You have fought in the face of evil with unimagined bravery. You care for those you care for with unmatched selflessness. You have hurt yourself so much just to protect those you love."

"Hope is _never_ truly lost, only misplaced. And sometimes it takes someone else to help you find it. And, you know what? You've given me bravery that I thought was lost. Thank you Ivan. You've inspired me."

Alfred took Ivan's hand and cupped it in his, "You have saved so many. So please Ivan, let me save you."

He smiled.

Alfred smiled the brightest smile Ivan had ever seen. It was filled with hope, compassion, and friendship. A feeling filled Ivan's heart. It was the same feeling he felt when he was his that wolf. That feeling of_ love_.

And just out of the corner of his eye, Ivan saw a flash of white fur running through two trees. He looked to her and so did Alfred.

"Is- what is that?" Alfred said standing up, shielding his eyes from the brightness. A light as bright as a star began to shine from out of nowhere. How had it gotten there? Where was it coming from? Regardless Alfred began to walk toward it. Ivan's hand still in his, they walked toward it together.

The light was blinding as it shone through this small gap in between the two trees in front of them. But, as they walked closer and closer the light became warmer and warmer. It was amazing. As they walked into the light they felt as if they were being encased in the warmest joy and love. And the second Alfred's and Ivan's feet touched the ground outside of the forest the light dimmed and they saw it.

Sunflowers. Sunflowers were everywhere. Just out of these incredibly dark woods this field of sunflowers blossomed. They couldn't believe it. It was so beautiful.

They looked to each other, smiling in disbelief.

And as they stood there, staring at this impossible field of bright and marvelous sunflowers from dark and clouded woods, feeling each other's slow breaths brush across their tried and tear stained faces, looking into each other's eyes, peering into the depths of their minds and souls, something happened. Something big and confusing, something small and clear, but so very, very important.

Though they didn't know what this very, very important thing was. But, they knew, on one level or another, that it was there and that it was so very, very amazing.

_To be continued…_

Hey everyone! Before I say anything else I have to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart! I am just so honored that all of you guys are reading this! I'm so glad that you guys actually like it! It makes me cry tears of joy! Really you guys make me so happy, so thank you! Thank you all so much! *Insert tears of joy here*

Also I'm sorry for being late! It's so sloppy and the ending is really rushed but I had to get it out! Please forgive me for being so late! All this stuff came up at one time so I had to delay it and then when I did have the time writers' block hit like a ton of bricks! And guess who got terribly sick right before she had the chapter done! _ME_! *Sob*

Also anyone notice yet that I really like repeating sentences? And 'how could a wolf live for hundreds of years?' You ask. Well friendship is magic, bitches!

Remember, reviews make the writer happy! _So review damn it!_


	10. Friends and Memories

Hey guys! So here's chapter ten. We've been having a lot of drama lately so I thought it was time for a nice cool down chapter. Good ol' calming dialogue to develop romantic relationship! Also this is a short chapter because my brain isn't working. Herp derp.

So if you guys didn't get the last chapter here we go: dark/lost woods represents Alfred's and Ivan's confusion and desperateness. The wolf is the spirit of the moon. Her appearance shows Ivan that he's got a friend again. So when they're in the forest lost in the darkness they can't get out alone. But, when they realize and accept each other's friendship the find their way out and find a badass field of sunflowers. Guess what that represents: Yep, it's love and happiness.

Not mine. Not true. Not a political statement. Russia's cool. Not based on people. Sorry for any offense.

Happy reading!

Chapter 10

Friends and Memories

Sun flowers. Beautiful, brilliant, vivid, magnificent, awe inspiring sunflowers.

They were everywhere. Like bright, shining stars they lit up the dark night. Just outside of this foggy and blurred wood, a brilliant field of sunflowers bloomed in the darkness. Somewhere, lost in the mountains, on the other side of a forest no one could understand, a hidden field of sunflowers lay.

The moon's light shone onto this impossible field, like a beacon, covering this sanctuary in its pale and gentle light. Sprouting from the ground these bright and shinning sunflowers stood as high as the trees. As the cold night wind blew, they swayed and danced as if they were alive.

Their hearts were pounding. Their breath was stolen by this incredible sight. They looked above them. Their faces were still wet from their tears, but the cool winter breeze brushed them away as the flowers swayed and stirred in the field. The clear dark blue sky above them bursted with light from the thousands of shimmering stars. It seemed that for every star that shone in the night sky a flower bloomed down on the earth, a reflection of the celestial beauty.

How this beautiful and seemingly mystical place could be just behind such a dark and wretched forest was beyond them. It was as if they had stumbled upon a hidden sanctuary, pure and untouched, meant only for them.

As they gazed on to this sight, their thoughts of fear and confusion ceased as their racing hearts pounded in their chests. Ivan stood there, his voice escaped from him, panting for air, his heart felt like it was about to burst from his chest. As he felt the wind blow across his face, and felt the moon's gentle light shining down on him, and felt Alfred's heart beat pulsing though his hand entwined in his, he felt so _alive_.

He was going to give up. He had lost all hope. He felt as if he had already failed and died. He felt like he was stumbling pointlessly through an inescapable maze. He had tried everything he could to save himself. But, he couldn't find his way out. He was afraid and lost.

But, then _he_ came. Alfred came into his life and pulled him out of that maze. He had broken his mask and shown him how to smile. He gave him hope, true hope, and shouldered him while he cried.

Tears are a difficult burden to bear. They are proof of your sadness. It is so much easier to ignore sorrow, to lie to yourself, and turn a blind eye to despair. But now Ivan's wall that held his tears, and fears, and pain, had broken and all of it came flowing out of him. He had admitted to his regret. He never wanted to, he couldn't. Because if he did then he would be stuck with his sorrow, all alone to cope with it.

But that wasn't true. Next to him stood Alfred. His friend.

It was like a weight had been lifted off his soul. As he looked onto these beautiful, amazing, flowers he felt safe. And as he felt Alfred's pulse resonating from his hand to his own he felt _happy_.

Ivan looked to Alfred's captivated face and smiled.

"Alfred?" He asked, his sight fixed on Alfred's shining blue eyes.

"Yeah?" Alfred said, staring all the same.

"Thank you."

Alfred looked to Ivan in slight shock. What could he be thanking him for? "What? What for?" He said.

"For reminding me."

"What do you mean? For reminding you of what?" Alfred asked.

"_That I can still love_," Ivan whispered so quietly even he couldn't hear it.

But then Ivan looked up and faced Alfred. "I don't think I can let my… _friend_ to stay living in the woods. Who knows? You might get stolen up by a wolf." Ivan said, a small smile blooming across his face.

…

Ivan opened the door to his home. He casually walked in, only leaving the door open for a few moments longer than usual so that Alfred could walk in behind him. Once Alfred was though he closed the door, sealing it shut.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Alfred whispered, still underneath his invisibility cloak. "I mean, are you sure no one can see me?"

Ivan chuckled lightly, "Yes Alfred my home is protected by a shield of my own making. It's completely sound proof, in a place which is unseen, and covered in a barrier that projects an image so that no one can look in. You're not the only one creating their own technology."

"So I can take this off?" Alfred asked, still whispering, "It's getting hot... and low on oxygen!"

Chuckling at Alfred's distress he said, "Yes, you can take it off! And you don't need to whisper, you know."

With that Alfred flung the sheet off, and gasping for air and pounding his chest to get his heart going. "Holy crap, that took forever!" Alfred flapped his hands in his face trying to get a cool breeze. "Hang on a sec," He said panting, his face red and sweating. "I'm dying!"

Ivan couldn't help but laugh. Alfred has acting like a complete buffoon and after such an intense scene they had shared. He seemed to be so care free after he had just witnessed Ivan fall apart. He had just saved Ivan's life and he acted like it was just another day on Earth. It truly baffled him.

"Okay," Alfred said after cooling off, "I'm good now!"

Alfred looked at Ivan slyly, "So," He said flashing a bright grin, "Do I get the grand tour or what?"

…

Alfred wanted to know every nook and cranny of Ivan's home. He wanted to know the history and stories behind each crack and dent. He was fascinated by every piece of furniture, every glass and spoon, every picture, every book, everything and anything.

So Ivan told him. He told him the story of when he was a boy and made his very first table and chair. He told him about that one time he fell asleep cooking dinner and it accidentally caught fire. He told him about his favorite books and showed him his favorite spot to read in. How he had met his favorite author just walking along the street one day and how they talked for hours standing in the road. And Ivan told him these stories with such joy.

Remembering every good memory and sharing it with someone who cared about him, it was something Ivan had never done before. It was nice. Remembering the small happy things in his life, and sharing them with someone who cared, it was cathartic in a way.

"_There is always hope, no matter what. Even in the darkest of dark there is always a light. It might be hard to find, and sometimes it takes a while to form, but it will always be there to light your way._"

"Alfred. You are that light. You brought me hope." Ivan thought as he told the tales of his life to the one who had saved it.

…

Ivan's home was amazing! Everything had a story, from the plates on the table to the moon shaped crack on the ceiling! Ivan was being so nice to him too, he had changed entirely! It was like he was a whole different person, the one Alfred saw through those stunning vibrant eyes. And Alfred loved it!

"This is the library. You'll be sleeping here." Ivan said stopping before a beautifully craved oak door. They were the most beautiful carvings Alfred had ever seen.

Sunflowers swaying under the night sky, a wolf howling at the moon its pack looking on from a distance, flowers branching off and incasing pictures of scenes, gently framing them in their embrace, a single flowing scarf connected each scene telling one huge, wonderful story. But before Alfred could say something Ivan opened the door and Alfred gasped.

Alfred looked around the room wide eyed. To his right bookshelves filled with books, old and beautiful ornaments, precious and personal keepsakes, and art cloaked the walls. The wallpaper was this antique golden and red, as the fireplace flickered the light danced off the walls like shimmering stars. On the back wall a beautiful window stood, revealing the icy white winter outside. Two mighty trees stood entwined in each other's branches, covered in shimmering silver snow. On the left wall lay an oak desk covered in ancient books and papers. To the desk's left the old brick fireplace warmed the room. There was a large plush chair angled to face the fire place along with a large and inviting couch. They both were red with gold trimming, a perfect match for each other.

"Wow!" Alfred said running into the room with excitement, "This is the best library I've ever seen!"

"Yes," Ivan said, his head perking up, coming out from deep thought, "This is the heart of the house."

"Thank you Ivan, it's beautiful." Just as the words had slipped through his lips Alfred stiffed. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to call you by your human name! It just slipped out –"

"Alfred." Ivan said calmly, turning to Alfred with ease. "It's okay. I don't mind if you call me back that name."

Alfred looked to Ivan in shock. There was no way he could allow him to call him by his human name! He was so adamant about him only using that name if necessary. He held his human name in such high regard. He didn't let anyone use that name. Like it was a part of himself that he wanted to hide, from everyone else. As if to keep it untouched and untainted.

"_Don't you dare call me by my human name! You have no right!"_

_Alfred's head crashed back into the tree where Ivan held him captive. He growled in rage as his eyes flared._

"Are you sure?" Alfred asked with hesitation.

Ivan paused.

His human name was immensely important to him. It was his humanity. That was the part of him that was still innocent. That part of him had nothing to do with his nation, with the death, the hate, the pain. It was the part of him that never killed, that never hurt, that never died. It was the part of himself that he could still love, the part of him that needed no forgiveness. Ivan was kind. Ivan was loving. Ivan was gentle. Ivan was warm, and forgiving, and happy. Ivan was loved. _He was Ivan._ Not a raging tyrant who killed the people he treasured so dearly. Not the hate filled maniac who cared for only himself. No.

He was _Ivan_.

And Alfred understood that. Alfred knew that he was human. He knew that Ivan had fought so much to protect the people he loved. He knew how much Ivan hurt, how much love he gave that was never returned. He understood that, and accepted him, and _forgave_ him.

And then he did the impossible. He _saved_ him. Alfred came into his life and lifted Ivan out of the hole he couldn't get out of alone, Ivan resisting at every turn. He rejected Alfred at first. He didn't trust him. He hated him. But even though he pushed him away Alfred didn't give up. He knew Ivan needed his help. He knew it was the right thing to do, so he didn't give up no matter what. He got Ivan to _smile_ again, to _laugh_ again, to _hope_ again, to _love_ again.

He was more than deserving of calling him by his human name.

"Yes." Ivan said with the most sureness he had ever had, "I trust you."

Alfred looked to Ivan in both shock and gratitude.

"Thank you." He said, a shining smile blooming across his face.

"Let me get some food. I'm sure you're hungry." Ivan said a shy smile tugging at his lips. "Sit down, make yourself at home." And with that Ivan left the room and headed toward the kitchen, leaving Alfred to get acclimated with the house.

Now as Ivan walked through the house alone the halls seemed to be longer. Ivan couldn't help but think about what Alfred had said to him.

"_It's time that you forgive yourself. There is nothing more to atone for; there never has been. You are truly a kind and beautiful person. You have saved so many lives. And so many people love you._" Could that be true? Did Alfred really believe that? Could he really be forgiven… and loved?

"_You have saved so many. So please Ivan, let me save you._" A warm joyous feeling enveloped him. It was the same feeling he had when he was with his first friend, that beautiful white wolf. It was love.

"What is this feeling?" Ivan asked himself as he held his chest, "This is the same feeling I had with her. And now when I think about everything that Alfred has done for me, the things he's said to me, I feel it deep inside my heart. I feel that sense of love…" Before Ivan could expand on these thoughts he was already opening the door to the library with food and drink in hand. His body acting on its own even though his mind was somewhere completely else.

…

Alfred was wrapped in a warm blanket, the soft light of the fireplace flickered gently as snow fell outside. He smelled the steaming hot chocolate cupped in his hands. As he sipped the warming drink he looked around the room once again. The dim and changing light of the fireplace was so comforting, like the whole room was encasing him in a warm blanket.

Ivan was sitting in the chair opposite Alfred, drinking tea and reading his favorite book while basking in the light of the fire. They had been sitting there for quite some time in their quiet sanctuary, until a question poked at Alfred's mind.

"So tell me," Alfred said looking up from his mug, "What did you see last night that made you so frantic?"

"Honestly?" He asked laying back in his chair and looking into his tea.

Alfred nodded and Ivan sighed.

"I thought I saw an old friend." He said, his eyes closed and his voice quiet.

"An old friend?"

"Yes."

"Well, who was it?" Alfred asked, not satisfied with the less than detailed answers Ivan was giving.

Ivan sighed. "Alfred," He said turning his head away from his book and into Alfred's eyes, "I have trusted you with my true _name_. You do know how important that is to me, right?"

Alfred sat up. He knew what Ivan was serious. He knew how precious his name was to him. He had seen the scars on Ivan's neck. He had seen him defend his people no matter the cost. He had seen him break and fall into the very pits of despair. He saw the walls Ivan had hid behind his entire life fall apart and reveal who he really was. And Ivan and trusted him with that.

"Yes, I do." Alfred looked into Ivan's eyes; it was hard for him. He saw the anguish Ivan had to bear. He saw the regret and agony of a dying nation. Along with the kindness and love Ivan so desperately wanted to convey. It was all swirling inside his eyes.

"Promise not to laugh?" Ivan asked, catching Alfred off guard. He definitely hadn't expected him to say that.

"Of, course!" Alfred chuckled.

Ivan leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to face the ceiling. He didn't want to see Alfred's face when he told him. "A wolf."

"A… wolf?" Alfred said slowly, tilting his head to the side.

"Yes. The friend I thought I saw is a wolf." It must have sounded ridiculous, he knew.

Surely Alfred would think less of him now. His one friend a wolf? How pathetic, how sad. He'll probably laugh. Maybe he'll leave. Maybe this whole thing was a lie. Maybe Alfred didn't lo-

"That so cool!" Alfred said his face brightening in excitement, "My first best friend was a bunny. He was so fluffy! Guess his name! Go on, guess! Freedom! I know right? I even was awesome at naming when I was a kid! Ha ha ha!" Alfred laughed his loud, obnoxious, stupidly happy laugh.

And as Alfred laughed and smiled, Ivan realized it.

"_Alfred, this feeling. I…"_

_To be continued…_

Oh my god this chapter is so shit. And holy freaking crap nuggets this took me so long to get out! I'm sorry! But here it is, none the less. It's a short chapter, but a nice wind-down from last time at least.

Oh my god, I haven't written just regular non-dramatic dialogue in so long I've forgotten how to do it! Oh my god I hate this chapter so much; it' so bad! So much writers' block! AHHHH!

Oh, yeah I almost forgot… So I wanted to let you guys know that chapters will be coming out a little slower from now on. I'm starting college so chapters will take longer to get out. But, worry not! I will get them out! Also next chapter will be _a lot _better than this. (Oh my god I hate it so much, shut up me!)

_Remember that reviews really do make the writer happy._

Thank you for reading!


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